“Ah!” exclaimed Oscar. “A letter from my old friend in Warwickshire. I wonder what she’s got to say for herself.” He grinned at me across the galley table as he vigorously assaulted the envelope and tore it open. Cara frowned at his efforts as she crossed back to the stern deck on her way off the boat and through to the theatre’s front doors. She disapproved of waste and always opened postal packages carefully. I tuned into Oscar’s thoughts as he took his little half-spectacles from their case and placed them on his beak, their rims glinting in the morning sunshine. He began to read: “’My dear friend, Oscar...’”.
“Bit over the top,” I observed dryly. “Slightly excessive in its effusion.”
“Just a military custom – it’s the way officers address one another in letters.”
“You weren’t an officer. You just did your national service, in the ranks.”
“As quickly and quietly as possible and as near to home as I could wangle.”
“What about her?”
“Ah now... that was long before sexual equality reached the armed services. These days our enemies are expected to kill women as readily as they exterminate men, but this particular lady was married to a soldier and they lived in married quarters on a garrison where I was busy in Theatre.” He turned his attention back to her letter. “Oh how nice, she’s congratulating me on sales of my book about directing – ‘Playmaker’ – I sent her a signed copy. Have you read it?’
“I’ve had no option. It was my job to check everything as you wrote it.”
“So you did, so you did. Anyway – about thirteen hundred sold, by the way.”
“Yes, I know, and my gast is almost as flabbered as your own. GET ON!”
I was keen to hear the news from Oscar’s friend (Charlotte by name) because she’s associated with the theatre where our daughter Barby has gone to live. For her part, Barby seems perfectly happy living with her new partner, Oliver from Stratford-upon-Avon, in the owl-box that one of the ecologically aware theatre-members affixed to the side of the building some years ago. We have regular reports along the theatre-owl network, but a new take from a lady quacker would be interesting.
“Of COURSE!” exploded Oscar, suddenly. “Good old Charley is a half-way competent playwright. Even in the army, all those years ago, she was churning out television plays in the hope of making enough money to purchase her husband’s discharge from the service. She could be just what we need to lend some structure and texture to the improvised play. I wonder if she’s still writing...”
“What about her husband?”
“Oh no, he couldn’t write a jot – complete ignoramus, but an able set-builder. In any case, he passed away some years ago, poor chap. But Charley! Now then...”
So I didn’t get to hear what this Charley thought about her theatre’s new owls’-nest, because he immediately started jabbing at his little talking box, then yapping into it for ages. I don’t think he bothered to read the rest of her letter.
But I agreed with Oscar that an experienced playwright could provide the answer to our problem, not because his friend was a genius – I’ve never seen any of her work - but, unless someone gets among our trainees in the Actors’ Workshop and pummels some shape into their work with Skap, we’ll finish with a brilliant first half of the show and nothing to follow it. Under Sinead’s direction, the Orton play is really looking good. Unfortunately, Skap’s easy-going technique is causing progress in the workshop to lag. It’s not that he’s short of ideas, quite the reverse; if anything the problem is that he has too many ideas and likes to explore them all. Add to this the facts that his ideas inspire new ones to flow from the members... and then that Sam Adams often has key members in individual coaching sessions... not to mention the problems caused by imposing Gwyneth on the team and... well, you can imagine that things are becoming a tad confused.
Oscar started to have a beneficial effect on the production as soon as he took over as Stage Manager. This meant that he could unify and balance the two halves of the show without interfering with content and interpretation, but I knew full-well that he was becoming concerned about Skap’s work. We are all very fond of the young director, even Gwyneth, but he really must start making decisions. A corporate sigh of relief accompanied their “democratically arrived at” decision to appoint Oscar in his co-ordinational role. Sinead had had a quiet word with Sam before Sam called a meeting of the workshop members and... Oscar began his work by holding a master-class in Stage Management, which was a ploy that enabled him to impress on everybody (including Skap) the purpose of and the need for system and discipline.
I am reminded that you need to be brought up to date on the situation regarding Gwyneth, who (as you know) had great hopes for Sam Adams’ fulfilment of his promise – made some forty years previously – to come back and marry her. The more he kept his distance, the more bitchy she became; she created as many obstacles as possible. Well, clearly something had to be done to appease her, which is how it was that she was approached with an alternative proposal: that she might care to join the Actors’ Workshop with a view to becoming the central character in its improvised play. This brought her into close proximity with Sam, but he still contrived to keep an emotional distance between them. Unfortunately, Gwyneth saw it her duty to help with Sam’s plans for renovating the old Riverside Theatre. She began “dropping in” on the builders, usually when they were taking their tea-break, so that she was free to nose around and make assumptions. The builders were under strict instructions to tell her nothing, but one
or two of the labourers possessed that peculiarly British sense of mischief that demands the acerbic delivery of false information. Gwyneth observed that the bijou bachelor apartment had no double bedroom, but was equipped with a miniscule second bedroom, so she instructed that the two single rooms should be knocked into one double one in readiness for her matrimonial inception. The foreman quickly scribbled “Nurse’s Accommodation” on a drawing that showed the tiniest bedroom and left it where Gwyneth was sure to see it. The builders were of course intensely loyal to Sam; Gwyneth was left to draw her own conclusions about Sam’s medical condition.
Perhaps the builders are becoming surprised by how much Sam knows about day-to-day events at the Riverside. You and I know, however, that two of our latest brood – Viv and Larry – have taken up residence in a nearby willow tree, in fact in a hole in its trunk. They keep an eye on the builders, send their reports to myself or Penny, I transmit the news to Oscar and he tells Sam. It’s really quite simple.
Sam continues to pay for his suite at the Peacock Hotel while his new residence reaches completion, but most nights he can be found slumped on the starboard berth, suffering from an excess of grice. Little does he know that Penny and I – when flitting silently about our hunting trips – know exactly what goes on on the odd occasion he makes it to the Peacock – and who with!
To everyone’s surprise, Gwyneth has fitted in really well with the Actors’ Workshop and has shown an unselfish facility for applying her seasoned techniques to situations that demand imagination and flexibility. The ease with which she has won the acceptance of the group has alerted the suspicions of Sam and Oscar, but they are powerless to protect the young leader, Skap, from her wiles, except to mention to him that she is a shrewd tactician. He just blinked his innocence.
Oscar ushered Charley into the rehearsal studio when the group was deep inside its work of developing a scene about tension in the work-place. It is an unbreakable rule that only involved people should be present at rehearsal, spectators are forbidden, so it was natural that everybody should cast anxious glances toward the stranger who sat down with Oscar and began to watch their work. Naturally, Skap had been forewarned; he smiled a greeting for Charley, which allayed the members’ fears. When she took a notebook from her briefcase and began to make notes, they assumed that she was from the press.
The whole idea of the developing play is to make entertainment from, and commentary on, the modern trend toward a new despotism in the workplace. This follows on well from the Orton play, which – set in The Sixties – tells, in nineteen succinct scenes, a bitter-sweet story about the impersonalisation of industry. Nearly all of the workshop members have jobs, or are in education, so they are familiar with the situation and atmosphere; they can see sense in studying the causes of stress and making them into an entertainment. Even Gwyneth – who over the years has become a partner in a local law firm that specialised in employment cases – can make valuable contribution. The work is therefore interesting and exciting.
When, eventually, Skap called a break for coffee and discussion, he asked Oscar to introduce Charley and explain her purpose. During this, the studio door opened to allow Sam and Sinead to creep in and complete the group. Oscar described the circumstances in which he met Charley and her husband so many years before, and went into detail about some of her plays on which he had worked. Clearly. he has respect for her ability and soon all of the members were smiling a welcome. That is to say that nearly all of the members smiled a welcome. Just one of them had begun to frown when she saw Sam and Sinead together. I’ve already mentioned how attractive Sinead is – tall, slim, dark, with the laughing ice-blue eyes of Ireland and a complexion for a quacker to die for – but someone should explain to Sam that he’s not quite as pretty as her and is at least forty years older. Will he care?
Anyway... (getting back to more practical matters)
Charley took the floor and explained how she intended to go about her work of scripting their improvisations. Of course, I had eavesdropped on her earlier discussion with Oscar and Skap, so I slipped away up the ventilation shaft to flit home and discuss my worries with Penny, my wife. I could see complications developing unless someone took action in the Sam/Sinead/Gwyneth collision.
To add further complication, Sam had reserved and paid for an additional room for Charley at the Peacock Hotel, where she can work on her script every day. For how long can he and Sinead keep their secret? What trouble will ensue when...
Oh what a tangled web those quackers do weave when first they seek...
Why can’t they be just like we owls and have one mate all their lives?
Jonah was a very experience director, teacher and writer who sadly passed away in February 2006. He was also the author of the highly successful "Playmaker - The Craft of Directing Plays (The Way I Seen It)".