LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      The curtain came down on the kind of applause every actor hopes and prays for and is ineluctably sustained and nourished by. Thunderous. Slowly, it rose again and the performers returned to the stage one by one, the bit players first, then the character actors, the second male lead, and the leading man. The clapping spiralled markedly upwards for him, but became a tumultuous crescendo that was deafening when finally Katharine Tempest swept on to join the two male stars in the centre of the stage. The entire cast linked hands and bowed and smiled and bowed again.

      As the heavy gold-trimmed red velvet curtain fell and rose for a second time, Katharine stepped forward to ringing cheers, and ‘Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!’ reverberated throughout the proscenium. Her face was radiant, wreathed in smiles and she bowed low and blew kisses from her fingertips and mouthed, ‘Thank you. Thank you.’

      Against the backdrop of the giant-sized scenery, depicting ancient Greece in all its glory, she seemed such a small, frail figure as she stood alone before the audience at the edge of the stage, graciously accepting their adulation. Yet she did not feel alone or lonely but, rather, more like the favourite member of a large and adoring family. Her family. Her only family. She belonged to them, and they to her, and nothing could ever change this fact.

      Katharine’s heart crested with joy, and euphoria swarmed through her as she felt the waves of love washing over her from beyond the glittering footlights. And mingled with the joy was a marvellous sense of fulfilment, and the reaffirmation of her talent. And then it came, as it always did, the surge of relief that she had succeeded yet again. All of the dedication and discipline, hard work and straining for perfection was worth it just for this intoxicating and uplifting feeling. It was the ultimate reward.

      She longed to stand there indefinitely, savouring the triumph of her victory, basking in the fervour of their approbation, but Katharine was conscious of her stage manners, and considerate of the rest of the cast, and she knew she had to give way, to permit the other stars of the play to take their individual bows. To receive their hard-won dues.

      With a grand theatrical flourish she proffered a last handful of heartfelt kisses to the audience and bestowed a final luminous smile on them, before she turned to Terrence Ogden, her leading man, and stretched out her hand. He took it and moved closer to her, bowing first to Katharine and next to the audience, who were wildly ecstatic. Katharine half turned once more, this time to her left, and John Layton, the second male lead, came forward to complete the magnetic trio, who seemingly this night had surpassed themselves. There were four more rousing curtain calls before the red velvet finally rose and fell for the last time, and the cast slowly dispersed.

      Katharine hurried off stage without exchanging a few words with her fellow actors as she usually did, anxious to return to her dressing room without delay. She felt uncomfortably hot, her costume was soaked and clinging to her clammy body, and the flowing red wig was heavier and more constricting than ever; it had begun to make her head itch to such an extent that it was an unbearable irritation.

      In the last act she had perspired profusely and somewhat unnaturally for her, and she wondered dismally if she was coming down with a cold. Certainly her throat ached and felt scratchy, but she was fully aware she had overworked it, both at the matinee and this last performance. The effort to project her voice effectively into the cavernous depths of the St James’s Theatre had apparently taken its toll for once. This bothered her not a little, and she resolved to increase her lessons with Sonia Modelle, London’s foremost vocal coach. She would also make a point of doing her breathing exercises more regularly and diligently, since breathing correctly was the key to a good voice, as Sonia had instilled in her. For the past four years Katharine had worked extremely hard in the cultivation of voice technique. Through assiduousness and single-minded concentration she had developed tone, pitch, pace, range and rhythm to a remarkable degree, and had most effectively obliterated the American Midwest inflection so easily distinguishable in her speech patterns when she had first arrived in England. Sonia was amazed and gratified by her exceptional progress, and although the respected coach was usually scant with her praise, she had told Katharine only a few weeks before that there was now a peerless musicality to her voice, a quality few actresses ever attained. Nonetheless, Katharine recognized she must continue to work on her voice to strengthen it. Only absolute perfection would satisfy her.

      Terry Ogden caught up with her in the wings. ‘Hey, Puss, you’re in a tearing hurry tonight, aren’t you?’

      Katharine paused and swung around quickly. She half smiled, half grimaced. ‘I feel pretty done in, Terry. Giving two entirely different performances in one day doesn’t usually disturb me at all, but for some reason I’m exhausted this evening.’

      Terry nodded sympathetically. ‘I know exactly what you mean. But they were great performances, darling,’ he exclaimed. ‘And you do adjust to the mood of the audience quite instinctively, and quicker and more expertly than anyone I know. That’s a rare talent indeed, Puss, and especially in one so young.’

      ‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ Katharine said. ‘You’re also very adept yourself.’ She looked up at him and smiled.

      It was a smile of such genuine sweetness, and her eyes reflected such wonderment and innocence, Terry felt his heart clenching. He always experienced this feeling when she regarded him in this particular way, for the gaze held an indefinable quality unique to her. There was also a curious vulnerability about Katharine that touched him, a frailty mixed in with the tenacity he suspected lurked beneath the surface, and he often found himself wanting to shield and protect her, as one would a defenceless child.

      Becoming aware of her eyes concentrated on his face, he said, ‘I’m pretty agile most of the time, Puss, but I was certainly a bit off my mark tonight. Thanks for coming to my rescue. I can’t believe I almost fluffed that line in the second act. And such a crucial line!’

      Neither could Katharine. Terrence Ogden was one of England’s greatest stage actors, comparable only to Laurence Olivier in his youth, according to the critics, who judged Terry to be an impressive and gifted performer. Matchless in declamation, he had immense depth and range, these qualities strengthened by enormous intelligence and insight. Another prince among players, he was an idol to the public, being blessed with a boyish charm and rather striking blond good looks; and his singular flair for romantic entanglements of a decidedly flamboyant nature had done nothing to diminish his professional reputation. If anything, this penchant had enhanced it to a formidable degree, endowing him with the image of the great lover. His private life aside, everyone predicted that one day he, too, would be knighted by the Queen, as Olivier had been. In essence, he was the heir apparent to the reigning king of the English-speaking theatre, and Larry himself fondly regarded him as such, was his mentor, benefactor and close friend. At the age of thirty, Terrence Ogden, the coal miner’s son from Sheffield, was, as he liked to pronounce in his native North Country dialect, ‘Cock of t’heap, by gum!’ having relentlessly nudged aside most of his rivals, the famed Richard Burton included.

      Katharine leaned against a piece of scenery and her eyes narrowed, rested on him thoughtfully as she remembered how he had unaccountably dried up on stage, and had flashed her a look that bespoke his horror and his panic. ‘What did happen?’ she asked at last. ‘It’s not like you, Terry.’

      He frowned and shook his head and his irritation with himself flared, brought an irate gleam to his eyes. ‘I’m damned if I know, Puss darling. It’s not occurred since I was a kid in rep, and I can assure you it will never happen again. Anyway, you saved the old bacon with that swift and inspired prompt. I

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