Fault in the Structure

CHAPTER 15

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Simple ignorance can be cured by simple truth

Spoken with sincerity.

Between them, Laura with goodhumour and commonsense, Hamilton Haynings by the exercise of his authority, gradually got the better of the saboteurs, so the last half-dozen rehearsals, leading up to what might be called the sub-dress rehearsal, saw The Beggar’s Opera beginning to take shape.

By the time Denbigh was informed that the company had cut its teeth and was ready for him, the warring factions had not only given up the struggle for power but were as anxious as anybody else that the production should be a success. As history has shown, there is nothing so powerful as a common enemy to bring private vendettas to an end, and this unifying force was provided by Clarice Blaine.

She had spoken at public meetings, she had written letters to the local press, she had asked questions at the sessions of the Chardle District Council, she had repeated those questions at meetings of the local rate-payers’ association and she had lobbied the local church dignitories.

The results were that the literary, dramatic and operatic society closed ranks and that the general public bought tickets for all three performances of the opera in the lively anticipation that they were going to attend something in the nature of a cross between the Folies Bergères, a strip-show of unusual daring, a Babylonian orgy and the less presentable aspects of a witches’ sabbath.

‘The tickets have never gone so well as early as this,’ said an exultant Ernest Farrow, as members clustered round him to ask for more to sell.

‘Clarice Blaine ought to go in for advertising,’ said Laura to Dame Beatrice. ‘However, I’ve managed to snaffle a couple of dockets in the front row for the third night. If nobody needs prompting during the Thursday and Friday performances, I’ve told Denbigh I shall sit in front with you on the Saturday when my part is over.’

‘William Caxton came here while you were at this evening’s rehearsal,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘and asked where he should take the posters he has printed.’

‘I suppose Denbigh had better have them. If Caxton has made as good a job of them as he did of the tickets, Denbigh will be glad to have them stuck up outside the town hall.’

‘Mrs Blaine has written briefly but politely to thank me for the pageant posters. I gather that we are unlikely, however, to have her company at the town hall.’

‘We certainly shan’t. She’s been gunning for weeks to get the opera boycotted if not actually outlawed. The result is that we look like being booked solid for all three performances. In fact, I believe we could run for a week if we liked. Sweet are the uses of the English resolve to see smut where none is intended or, for the matter of that, provided. Our Beggar’s Opera is as chaste as ice, but, fortunately, the prospective audience doesn’t know that.’

‘And the music?’

‘Denbigh has borrowed freely from Frederic Austin, he says, and the result is a lively, tuneful romp. I don’t think whatever the audience expects, that anybody will be disappointed with the songs.’

The disappointment, when it came, was to Cyril Wincott. The school of which this handsome Macheath was such an ornament had acquired a trampoline and two or three of the younger members of staff were agog to try it out. Unfortunately, after school closed on the evening of the third rehearsal at the College, at which the full college orchestra and chorus, as well as the principals, were to be present, Cyril, taking a bet that he would soar higher in the air than the others, won his bet, but landed on the edge of the trampoline, fell awkwardly and broke his right leg.

Denbigh, at the College rehearsal, received the news with resignation. He was not unduly distressed. At this stage of the rehearsals everybody knew all the dialogue and all the songs, and he thought that to replace Cyril with one of the others would be far from impossible.

There was no lack of claimants for the part. Denbigh, anxious to show no bias, asked these to sing a duet with Sybil, the Polly Peachum. Privately he was determined not to move James Hunty, who was shaping up well in the part of Polly’s father, and he was equally determined not to allow Hamilton Haynings’s foghorn voice (well enough in the part of the jailor Lockit) to ruin Macheath’s solos or the duets with Sybil.

Having given these two and the youthful Geoffrey Channing and Robert Eames their chance and having even tried out the diffident Ernest Farrow in the part, he shook his head regretfully and said, ‘I don’t quite think so, you know. I really think I had better let my top music student, who has had some experience, conduct the orchestra and I’ll take the part myself.’

At this the silence which had fallen on the disappointed contestants was broken by Rodney Crashaw. He had heard of Cyril’s accident and had decided to present himself at the rehearsal openly instead of in the clandestine manner he had previously employed. He came up to the front of the platform and said, with carefully simulated diffidence:

‘I think the players, if not the orchestra, would be less than happy were you not to wield the conductor’s bâton, Dr Denbigh. I wonder whether, before you come to a final decision, you would allow me to try a duet with Miss Gartner.’

‘So long as the duet is confined to the stage and no private rehearsals are permitted,’ muttered Sybil to Laura, as they waited in the wings.

‘Would you mind trying over Were I laid on Greenland’s coast, Miss Gartner?’ asked Denbigh.

‘Righto,’ Sybil replied. ‘Anything to oblige.’ But at the conclusion of the duet she said, ‘I’d be quite happy with that.’

‘So would I,’ said Denbigh. ‘Right. Let’s have the Beggar and the Player on stage and try a complete run-through.’

The college orchestra was already tuning up and the college ‘extras’ in the persons of Macheath’s gang, the ladies of the town and the other minor rôles which the students were to fill, were ready and waiting when there were ‘noises off’ and, to everybody’s astonishment, Mrs Blaine turned up with Caxton in tow and seated herself, with him beside her, near the back of the room.

‘I want to be sure that the dialogue is audible,’ she said. ‘Some of my friends told me, after our last production, that they had difficulty in hearing some of the characters. I shall call out at once if I fail to catch what anybody utters.’

‘Pardon me, Mrs Blaine,’ said Denbigh crisply, ‘but I can allow no interference with my rehearsal. You are welcome to sit and listen, of course, but the only interruptions will come from me, if you please. I am sure you understand. Beginners ready?’

The Beggar and the Player took the stage, the Player called upon the orchestra to ‘play away the overture’ and the rehearsal, with James Hunty, Laura, young Tom Blaine (whose voice had broken to a light, immature, but rather attractive tenor), Sybil as Polly and the saturnine bearded Crashaw as Macheath, got off to a flourishing start.

Philip Denbigh allowed the whole act to run its course, praised the players, took them all through it again, including the overture, and this time called for frequent stops while he made his comments and asked for repetition of lines, parts of solos and stage business. The clock crept from seven to eight and from eight to nine before he called for Act Two.

This went better than Laura, who was prompting, had expected. She had very little to do. This time Denbigh, who must have rehearsed his choral students very carefully, did not ask Macheath’s gang or the ladies of the town to repeat any part of their performance, but began his criticism and advice only after the entrance of Peachum with the constables who had come to arrest Macheath.

At eleven o’clock he declared the rehearsal over and added that next time they would begin with Act Three. He hoped he had not kept them too late and congratulated them upon their efforts. Mrs Blaine had long ago taken young Tom home in his father’s car, but Caxton had stayed on and at the end of the rehearsal he approached Laura and begged for a lift back to his cottage.

‘Thought you’d brought your motor-bike,’ she said, not at all anxious to be taken so far out of her way so late at night.

‘I’ve run out of petrol,’ he said.

‘Well, there’s an all-night garage in the town not a quarter of a mile from here,’ said Hamilton Haynings, joining them.

‘Oh, all right, then. Thanks,’ said Caxton, walking away.

‘Thank you,’ said Laura to Haynings. ‘The last thing I wanted was to drive into the depths of the Forest at this time of night.’

‘He had a damned cheek to ask a woman to go,’ said James Hunty. ‘Why couldn’t he have asked one of the chaps? What was he doing here, anyway? He doesn’t belong to our lot.’

‘Mrs Blaine brought him. She wants him to speak a little piece at our show to boost her pageant.’

‘She would!’ He accompanied Laura to her car. ‘Damned cheek!’ he said again; but whether he was referring to Clarice Blaine or to Caxton, she did not know and did not ask him.

‘Very decent of Haynings to chip in,’ she said to Dame Beatrice when she got back to the Stone House. ‘Saved me quite an embarrassing moment, although I’m not sure I want him as a father-figure. Anyway, I certainly wasn’t prepared to take Caxton home, but one doesn’t really like refusing. Had he been one of the cast it might have been different, but actually he had no right to be at the rehearsal at all, and I’m surprised Philip Denbigh let him stay.’

‘You say he came with Mrs Blaine?’

‘Even so, she had no right to bring him. I suppose she’s so pleased to have got him for her pageant that she’s determined to keep her hooks on him. And she wouldn’t have got him but for your noble action in paying for all that printing. I must say he’s made a good job of it.’

‘Yes, indeed, and at a far from extortionate price.’

The next rehearsal began, as Denbigh had promised, with Act Three. Laura handled the prompt-script and was surprised by the high standard of performance reached by Sybil and Melanie as Macheath’s rival wives. They had always been adequate in these rôles, but, playing opposite Crashaw, they had improved their performance a hundred per cent and had electrified the rest of the cast.

‘Well, now,’ said Denbigh, when Macheath had been reprieved and the last chorus had been sung, ‘I think, under the circumstances, we had better have a complete run-through just to make sure Mr Crashaw is not going to muddle the rest of you in the first two acts. We’ll leave out the solos and just take the spoken words and the stage “business”, and then I think we ought to have one more complete rehearsal, this time at the town hall, before the dress rehearsal. Is there anybody who can’t manage Saturday afternoon? The dress rehearsal proper is on Monday, and I shall need you all to be punctual. Six-thirty sharp, please, for a curtain-up at seven-thirty, and you had better arrange to be prepared to stay until midnight. Dress rehearsals always take about twice as long as anybody thinks they are going to, and I believe a photographer is expected, so that means more delay. And do, please, look after yourselves. It will be a disaster if anybody else falls down and breaks an arm or a leg.’

‘So there it is,’ said Laura, on the Saturday morning. ‘I’m very sorry indeed for young Wincott. He was very keen on his part and it’s rotten luck on him having to spend weeks in hospital. On the other hand, we’re getting a much better singer and actor in this heel Crashaw. His voice is quite decent. He’s had a show down with Denbigh, though.’

‘Oh, really? I thought you had just reported that he was good in the part.’

‘It isn’t that. It’s his beard. Denbigh wanted him to shave it off, but he won’t.’

‘A beard would be quite in keeping with the part, would it not?’

‘Denbigh doesn’t like beards. However, Crashaw claims that he grew his to cover up a very unsightly scar. I don’t believe it; I think he’s just simply attached to the beastly thing.’

‘And is to remain attached to it?’

‘Yes. Denbigh gave in. Under the circumstances he could hardly do anything else, I suppose. By the way, expect me home in the small hours of tomorrow morning. We’re going to do a preliminary dress rehearsal at the town hall this evening so that the wardrobe mistress can vet us.’

‘Who is this talented woman?’

‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? She is Mabelle van Pieter, our cataclysmic blonde. She’s also one of the ladies of the town and, if you ask me, I’d say that against Stella Walker and the damsels from the College of Education, she’ll stick out like a peony in a bunch of snowdrops. There are rumours going around that she lives with our bearded Macheath, but nobody seems to know how true they are. The couple avoid each other at rehearsals, so the story is probably right.’

‘Does Mrs Blaine still attend rehearsals?’

‘No. I think Denbigh choked her off.’

‘And our friend William Caxton?’

‘Funny you should mention him. I’ve just had a letter from him.’ Laura picked up an opened letter from beside her plate and handed it over. Dame Beatrice perused it.

‘I see he asks whether it would be in order for him to attend the final rehearsal and take photographs,’ she said. ‘It would have been better to ask permission of Dr Denbigh, I should have thought.’

‘I shan’t bother to answer the letter. If he decides to turn up on Monday evening I can leave Denbigh to deal with him. Incidentally, he’s to appear on stage at each performance to boost the pageant. It takes place the week after The Beggar’s Opera. As for Caxton and the photographs he’s after, the press will be there, anyway. Denbigh won’t allow cameras at the actual performances, so one more person clicking away at the dress rehearsal won’t make that much difference.’

‘I see, too, that he requests the pleasure of a few words in private with you.’

‘They’ll have to be precious few. I’m on and off most of the time in the first Act and after that I’m prompting. Incidentally, you’ll enjoy the scenes between Polly Peachum and Lucy Lockit. Sybil Gartner and Melanie Cardew so loathe each other that their passages of arms on the stage are almost too realistic’

‘ “I shall now soon be even with the hypocritical strumpet”,’ quoted Dame Beatrice. ‘I trust that the bottle of ratsbane is large and is well and truly labelled.’

‘It is, and it’s just as well that the stage directions call for Polly to drop her doped glass. I wouldn’t put it past Melanie to add something toxic to the beverage if there was half a chance of Sybil’s drinking it.’

‘What fun you must have at your rehearsals. Do you think I might present myself at this one? If so, we could have George to drive my car and you would not need to drive home alone if the rehearsal does indeed last into the small hours.’

‘Smashing idea,’ said Laura. ‘I’d like you to see the rehearsal. We’re going to set the stage as well as put on the costumes and make-up. Our sets are rather fabulous. Our painters and carpenters have had the run of the college workshops as well as a lot of help from the students. We don’t even end the play at the condemned hold. We’re going to put Macheath on the hangman’s cart and it’s from there that he gets reprieved.’

‘Realism indeed!’

‘There’s another bone of contention between Sybil and Melanie, I ought to tell you,’ said Laura. ‘I really thought Sybil was going to spit – literally, I mean. My own costume, as I’m Polly’s mother and therefore very much a matron, is black and white. Polly was supposed to be dressed in a rather deep pink and Lucy in apple green, but when they tried the things on, Melanie, whose sallowness not even make-up can really disguise, looked so awful in apple green that she told Denbigh she really must have the pink dress plus a gypsy make-up put on really thick. Denbigh and the wardrobe mistress agreed, so it’s going to be an apple-green Polly and a deep pink Lucy. Sybil was so furious that we half-thought she’d throw up her part.’

‘But Dr Denbigh talked her round, I suppose.’

‘Yes. He can be the soul of tact when he likes. I contributed my quota, too, when Sybil backed me into a corner to unload her grievances. Denbigh pointed out that the success of the show depended entirely upon her. I pointed out that she looks pretty in any colour, but that poor old Melanie needed all the help she could get to look even presentable on the stage. Between Denbigh and me we got Sybil soothed, but it wasn’t easy. I just hope, with my fingers crossed, that Sybil won’t rat on me and tell Melanie what I said.’

‘I wonder whether Dr Denbigh has followed Sir Nigel Playfair and given How now, Madam Flirt to two of the ladies of the town, or whether he has put it in its rightful place in the script?’

‘Oh, the latter. He’s given it, as written in the text, to Polly and Lucy. It’s one of their best efforts and I’m sure that, if Denbigh’s production called for them to scratch each other’s eyes out, they’d go to it with a will.’

‘I am looking forward to this rehearsal. I wonder what Caxton has to say to you?’

‘Not knowing, can’t tell. Perhaps he wants to con me into trying to persuade you to let him do some more printing. He was awfully pleased to get that order for the tickets and posters. I expect he can do with a few commissions of that sort. It’s a pretty poor sort of place in which he lives.’

‘He may prefer it to a more palatial residence.’

‘I don’t know so much. He has a lean and hungry look which goes to my motherly heart.’

‘Such men are dangerous,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Do not allow him to lure you into conspiracies.’

‘Conspiracies?’

‘Not the word I really mean.’ She eyed her comely secretary with humour. ‘Exchange the queen of fairies for the Green Man,’ she said, ‘and then repeat after me: “I am sae fair and fu’ o’ flesh, I’m fear’d ’twill be myself.” ’

‘Good Lord!’ said Laura blankly. ‘Whatever would Gavin say?’