William Maugham - Theatre

Michael followed her in almost at once

‘It looks like a winner all right.’ He threw his arms round her and kissed her. ‘By God, what a performance you gave.’

‘You weren’t so bad yourself, dear.’

‘That’s the sort of part I can play on my head,’ he answered carelessly, modest as usual about his own acting. ‘Did you hear them during your long speech? That ought to knock the critics.’

‘Oh, you know what they are. They’ll give all their attention to the blasted play and then three lines at the end tome.’

‘You’re the greatest actress in the world, darling, but by God, you’re a bitch.’

Julia opened her eyes very wide in an expression of the most naive surprise.

‘Michael, what do you mean?’

‘Don’t look so innocent. You know perfectly well. Do you think you can cod an old trooper like me?’

He was looking at her with twinkling eyes, and it was very difficult for her not to burst out laughing.

‘I am as innocent as a babe unborn.’

‘Come off it. If anyone ever deliberately killed a performance you killed Avice’s. I couldn’t be angry with you, it was so beautifully done.’

Now Julia simply could not conceal the little smile that curled her lips. Praise is always grateful to the artist. Avice’s one big scene was in the second act. It was with Julia, and Michael had rehearsed it so as to give it all to the girl. This was indeed what the play demanded and Julia, as always, had in rehearsals accepted his direction. To bring out the colour of her blue eyes and to emphasize her fair hair they had dressed Avice in pale blue. To contrast with this Julia had chosen a dress of an agreeable yellow. This she had worn at the dress rehearsal. But she had ordered another dress at the same time, of sparkling silver, and to the surprise of Michael and the consternation of Avice it was in this that she made her entrance in the second act. Its brilliance, the way it took the light, attracted the attention of the audience. Avice’s blue looked drab by comparison. When they reached the important scene they were to have together Julia produced, as a conjurer produces a rabbit from his hat, a large handkerchief of scarlet chiffon and with this she played. She waved it, she spread it out as though to look at it, she screwed it up, she wiped her brow with it, she delicately blew her nose. The audience fascinated could not take their eyes away from the red rag. And she moved up stage so that Avice to speak to her had to turn her back on the audience, and when they were sitting on a sofa together she took her hand, in an impulsive way that seemed to the public exquisitely natural, and sitting well back herself forced Avice to turn her profile to the house. Julia had noticed early in rehearsals that in profile Avice had a sheep-like look. The author had given Avice lines to say that had so much amused the cast at the first rehearsal that they had all burst out laughing. Before the audience had quite realized how funny they were Julia had cut in with her reply, and the audience anxious to hear it suppressed their laughter. The scene which was devised to be extremely amusing took on a sardonic colour, and the character Avice played acquired a certain odiousness. Avice in her inexperience, not getting the laughs she had expected, was rattled; her voice grew hard and her gestures awkward. Julia took the scene away from her and played it with miraculous virtuosity. But her final stroke was accidental. Avice had a long speech to deliver, and Julia nervously screwed her red handkerchief into a ball; the action almost automatically suggested an expression; she looked at Avice with troubled eyes and two heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. You felt the shame with which the girl’s flippancy affected her, and you saw her pain because her poor little ideals of uprightness, her hankering for goodness, were so brutally mocked. The episode lasted no more than a minute, but in that minute, by those tears and by the anguish of her look, Julia laid bare the sordid misery of the woman’s life. That was the end of Avice.

‘And I was such a damned fool, I thought of giving her a contract,’ said Michael.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘When you’ve got your knife into her? Not on your life. You’re a naughty little thing to be so jealous. You don’t really think she means anything to me, do you? You ought to know by now that you’re the only woman in the world for me.’

Michael thought that Julia had played this trick on account of the rather violent flirtation he had been having with Avice, and though, of course, it was hard luck on Avice he could not help being a trifle flattered.

‘You old donkey,’ smiled Julia, knowing exactly what he was thinking and tickled to death at his mistake. ‘After all, you are the handsomest man in London.’

‘All that’s as it may be. But I don’t know what the author’ll say. He’s a conceited little ape and it’s not a bit the scene he wrote.’

‘Oh, leave him to me. I’ll fix him.’

There was a knock at the door and it was the author himself who came in. With a cry of delight, Julia went up to him, threw her arms round his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.

‘Are you pleased?’

‘It looks like a success,’ he answered, but a trifle coldly.

‘My dear, it’ll run for a year.’ She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face. ‘But you’re a wicked, wicked man.’

‘I?’

‘You almost ruined my performance. When I came to that bit in the second act and suddenly saw what it meant I nearly broke down. You knew what was in that scene, you’re the author; why did you let us rehearse it all the time as if there was no more in it than appeared on the surface? We’re only actors, how can you expect us to—to fathom your subtlety? It’s the best scene in your play and I almost bungled it. No one in the world could have written it but you. Your play’s brilliant, but in that scene there’s more than brilliance, there’s genius.’

The author flushed. Julia looked at him with veneration. He felt shy and happy and proud.

(‘In twenty-four hours the mugil think he really meant the scene to go like that.’)

Michael beamed.

‘Come along to my dressing-room and have a whisky and soda. I’m sure you need a drink after all that emotion.’

They went out as Tom came in. Tom’s face was red with excitement.

‘My dear, it was grand. You were simply wonderful. Gosh, what a performance.’

‘Did you like it? Avice was good, wasn’t she?’

‘No, rotten.’

‘My dear, what do you mean? I thought she was charming.’

‘You simply wiped the floor with her. She didn’t even look pretty in the second act.’

Avice’s career!

‘I say, what are you doing afterwards?’

‘Dolly’s giving a party for us.’

‘Can’t you cut it and come along to supper with me? I’m madly in love with you.’

‘Oh, what nonsense. How can I let Dolly down?’

‘Oh, do.’

His eyes were eager. She could see that he desired her as he had never done before, and she rejoiced in her triumph. But she shook her head firmly. There was a sound in the corridor of a crowd of people talking, and they both knew that a troop of friends were forcing their way down the narrow passage to congratulate her.

‘Damn all these people. God, how I want to kiss you. I’ll ring you up in the morning.’

The door burst open and Dolly, fat, perspiring and bubbling over with enthusiasm, swept in at the head of a throng that packed the dressing-room to suffocation. Julia submitted to being kissed by all and sundry. Among others were three or four well-known actresses, and they were prodigal of their praise. Julia gave a beautiful performance of unaffected modesty. The corridor was packed now with people who wanted to get at least a glimpse of her. Dolly had to fight her way out.