Far to Go by Noel Streatfeild

Author:Noel Streatfeild [Streatfeild, Noel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2020-02-20T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A LETTER

Afterwards Margaret could not remember much about the first night. At the dress rehearsal a lot had gone wrong, not mistakes by Margaret but by other people, such as lighting effects and actors forgetting their parts. Margaret herself nearly made a mistake but Simon saved her; he carried her train in the cathedral and saw she was going to start to move too soon, so he gave the train a smart tug to remind her.

A first night, Margaret learned, was in many ways the same if it was in a tent or in the much grander atmosphere of The Dolphin Theatre. Everybody was nervous and overstrained. The theatre felt as a garden feels before a thunderstorm. But once the audience had settled down and all the ladies’ dresses had rustled into silence, and the last gentleman had closed his opera hat and put it under his seat, Margaret felt a warmth between herself and the audience. Only a little at first, but by the time they reached the scene where she lost her temper, quite an outpouring. It felt wonderful.

By the time they reached the last act, Margaret was over the moon. Everything had gone well. The rest of the cast, as they passed her, had said graciously, ‘Well done, dear,’ and even Sir John had given her a pleased pat on the back. Now the first night was almost over, Margaret felt in the mood to celebrate by doing something silly.

She was brought down to earth by her dresser, Ivy. ‘Now stand still, child, do. This dress is hard enough to fasten with all these buttons down the back without your jumping and spinning about.’

Margaret laughed. ‘But I feel like jumping and spinning.’

Ivy gave a look at Sarah. ‘You talk to her, Mrs Beamish.’

Sarah laid aside the needlework she did in the theatre. ‘Stand still, Margaret,’ she said. ‘That dress is not easy to fasten and Ivy has to be ready when she has put your train on to carry it down to the stage.’

‘No joke, that isn’t,’ said Ivy, ‘for of course, until you are on stage, it’s not to touch the floor.’

‘Suppose,’ Margaret teased, ‘I won’t stand still?’

‘That’s easy,’ said Sarah. ‘Liza goes on. With that crown and all, nobody would know the difference.’

‘But what about when we bow at the end?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t be there, would you?’

This brought Margaret down to earth with a bump. Like Queen Victoria, she almost said: ‘I will be good,’ but instead she murmured: ‘Sorry, I won’t fidget again.’

The play was a success but not a great success. Some of the critics were unkind to it, finding the actual writing heavy and old-fashioned. But about one thing all the critics agreed, and that was that Margaret was a real discovery.

‘This little girl,’ one of the critics said, ‘plays with a naturalness and charm which is a lesson to many actresses three times her age.’

Another wrote: ‘When little Miss Thursday was on the stage this play took on new life and meaning.

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