The Manhattan Girls by Gill Paul

Author:Gill Paul
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Jane

Jane opened an envelope that arrived for her at 412, and found a ticket to the dress rehearsal of Saint Joan.

“I’ve invited Dottie and Peggy too,” Winifred wrote in a note. “I’m so nervous, I need moral support, and it would mean the world to me if you are able to come.”

It seemed odd that Winifred was nervous when she had so much talent, but Jane thought her modesty was one of her many likable qualities.

She took the afternoon off work to go to the Garrick, arriving just before the rehearsal started and sneaking along the row to sit beside Dottie.

In the opening scene, Winifred played a young peasant girl convinced she hears the voices of the saints speaking in her head. She tells a French noble that his hens will resume laying if he assists her in lifting the siege of Orléans by the English, and she claims she will put the French Dauphin back on the throne. Winifred’s performance was chilling; she completely transformed into young Joan. Watching her, you were convinced she was hearing those voices. There was no breast-beating declamation; it was a performance of subtlety and conviction.

Jane was mesmerized throughout as Joan’s position grew increasingly perilous. The scenes of her torture and then burning at the stake were harrowing. Jane shivered with emotion during the final parts.

As they waited for Winifred in the foyer afterward, even Dottie couldn’t fault her performance, saying, “She’s so convincing, Catholics across the land will write asking her to send them her nail clippings as holy relics.”

Winifred floated out from backstage and seemed overwhelmed by their congratulations. “Are you sure?” she repeated. “You definitely think I’m not too bad?”

Jane squeezed her hand. “You’re phenomenal.”

“God, I hope so,” she said. “I feel as if this is my swan song. I’m never going to get such a great role again. I’m twenty-five years old and it’s all downhill for actresses after that.”

“Really?” Dottie said. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

Jane poked her in the ribs. “I’m sure directors will be falling over themselves to hire you after such a tour de force.” She found it charming that Winifred was so lacking in ego. Most other actresses of her acquaintance had it in spades.

As they walked to a speakeasy farther along West Thirty-Fifth Street, Jane wanted to ask Winifred more about how she had prepared for the role, but Dottie changed the subject.

“Peggy has some scandalous news,” she announced, with a grin. “Are you going to spill the beans, or will I?”

Peggy blushed to the roots of her hair. “It’s nothing much . . . just that, to my astonishment, I appear to have a beau. Can you believe it?”

“That’s exciting!” Jane said. “Who is he? Do we know him?”

“Here’s the odd thing,” Peggy replied. “He’s the doctor who treated Dottie back in January. Dr. Alvan Barach. He called and asked me for dinner.”

“What’s he like?” Winifred asked.

“He’s smart and easy on the eye,” Dottie replied, “but he’s clearly Jewish so I can’t figure out what’s he doing with a WASP like our Peggy.

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