February 2010
At five or six months I was beginning to think about how I was going to get back on my feet as an actress. I was still with my agent and happy to audition for parts. I found a childminder in the area, a recommendation, who was happy to have Number One Son two days a week and possilbly be a bit flexible and a nice actress/Nanny who was happy to babysit for us. I was up for carrying on.
Also, I needed a job. I was on maternity leave. Er, leave from what exactly? I reapplied to my old temping agency and was offered a one day a week job in a school in East London for six months which I took gratefully and was open for other work but I wanted to see whether I could get an acting job again. How would it work? I had no idea.
The phone rang. It was my agent. I was getting on a bus with a buggy in Crouch End.
'Hello?' Phone pressed to my ear, buggy in the other hand..
'Hello sweetie.'. It's Lasaaaaane. I have a casting for you.'
'Great. What is it?'
'It's for Hollyoaks. Tomorrow. Part of.........a mother. Oh and it's in Liverpool'.
'Liverpool?'
'Yes. Buy your own ticket dahling. They will reimburse you with cash when you get there.'
'Right. Okay. Great. Okay.' My voice was flat.
'Is this fine. I mean I know you have a baaaaby and everything......' she tailed off, the thinly veiled disgust evident in her voice that I had dared to (whisper) pro-create.
Great. I looked at my phone clock. It was five-thirty pm and I had to arrange childcare for tomorrow. It was not a designated childcare day. My childminder would be finishing for the day and might not have space for tomorrow. Jonny was working at the drama school he taught at and I had to get to Liverpool, audition, and get back in time to collect Number One Son. Piece of cake.
I phoned our no nonsense Northern childminder of a certain age.
'Liverpool?' She said. 'Okay. What time will you be here?........eight o'clock. What time will you be collecting him? Six o'clock? Better be here then. That's when I finish. On the dot.'.
'Okay. Brilliant! Lovely. Great. See you then. Thank you so much.'
I put the phone down and the MOTHER GUILT kicked in. Hard. I was going to leave my baby boy for ten hours while I galavanted up to Liverpool to audition for a part which would mean my whole family relocating up North but which let's face it I probably wouldn't get anyway.
As I paid for a taxi to take me on to the Hollyoaks set and waited with the other 'mothers of teenage children' I had the feeling I was not going to get the job.
I didn't get the job.
I didn't get any of the jobs I went for in between breast feeding, night waking, buggy walking, baby music and battling post natal depression. Until, a weird thing happened in the summer after Number One Son was born.
I was playing in the park next to our flat when a couple of strange messages flashed up on the email on my phone.
'YOU COULD BE FILMING NOW!' They said. It looked like spam. I deleted it. My phone had been on silent but there was a message from Lasaaaaane.
'Phone me. It is urgent.'
I phoned. It was lunch time. No-one answered. It was a wonderful summer day and I pushed Number One Son along in the park the sun beating down on my back sipping a coffee. It was an idyllic scene in the park. Children playing, people sunbathing, the paddling pool full. I turned the buggy into our garden round the back of the park and spread out a blanket for Number One son to play on.
Two o'clock came. I phoned my agent.
'DIDN'T YOU GET MY MESSAGES???'
'Um...no. I thought....anyway. What is it?'
'You have been offered East Enders. From that audition you did.'
'But I didn't get that one.'
'Yes but now they are asking for you. You need to get to Elstree now.'
'I....Oh. Well okay. Look, I just have to sort out a babysitter. I'll get back to you.'
O-Mi-God. I phoned my Dad.
'Hi. I'm sorry I can't take you call right now but I'll get back to you as soon as I can.'
Beeeeeep.
Oh yes he was teaching singing today.
My sisters were at work.
Okay. Let's see. Jonny was in a play at the King's Head afternoon and evening. My childminder was.....holy smoke ON HOLIDAY THIS WEEK! I started to panic. Who was going to have Number One Son?
With heavy heart I phoned my agent.
I couldn't make it.
I couldn't find the childcare.
At that moment I realised that my life had changed totally and irrevocably. Suddenly I had a reason more important than someone else's whim and I was more important to this person than I would ever be to a casting director who needed a last minute replacement for a bit part.
Onwards and upwards! Always good to be unavailable anyway. Creates an air of mystery. Number One Son burped in happy agreement.
I'm NOT a celebrity GET ME OUT OF HERE!
Sunday, 30 August 2015
Friday, 28 August 2015
And then there were three
March 2009
We moved to Crouch End or 'creche end'. Or 'couch end' as they call it due to the disproportionate number of children and therapists in the area. Well, I was in therapy and had a child so I was right in there. Jonny had always said previously that 'crouch end was where actors went to die'. Ah well.. I could think of worse places.
We bought our two bedroom flat for £230,000 after a particularly fierce property related row in the car (an old green Skoda that my husband had bought on ebay) during which the phone rang and an agent said that our offer of five months earlier had finally been accepted. We also had an offer accepted on a house in Walthamstow village in the same weekend. Both places were a wreck and needed complete renovation. We opted for the flat since the area was so fantastic and I had been slightly put off Walthamstow after a murder sign appeared in the church yard on the day of the viewing. London is London and I loved my old Walthamstow flat but somehow this did not see to be an auspicious sign. (Now I could smack myself in the face. It's worth a bloody fortune!)
We had £20,000 to do up the flat and this had to happen fast as we had moved out of Islington and were camping in Jonny's sister's flat in Manor House while she was away. I was in agony and had had to give up work a few months previously due to hideous degenerating fibroids that I had not known about pre-pregnancy.
When people tell you to limit your intake of this and that in pregnancy please think of me and my pethidine, morphine, codeine intake for pain relief and do not stress yourselves unduly about the pate that you ate by mistake.
Number One Son is, however, perfect. All was definitely well that ended well.
And so we trundled back from UCH to our new flat next to the park and thought.....now what?! We were typical older middle aged, middle class parents. Over thinking everything. Analyzing everything. Mmmm he's crying. What should we do? Rock him? Feed him? Burp him? Read him Shakespeare? Quick to the book store. Ah yes. Routine. That's what we need. The author's routine lasted about one page before we realised she was talking a langauage that we did not comprehend. Put it this way. Number One Son is five and we still hold his hand to get him to sleep. He finally (finally) slept through aged four and a half. Years. Not months and oh boy absolutely not weeks. So take heart! We are a well adjusted and happy family. Who just need a bit more sleep.
Am I in America?
January 2004
Arriving in Harrogate in north Yorkshire in January I was
freezing cold. The weather was icy. I was staying with a sweet old lady. And her
dog. This dog was not really a dog. It was a person. The dog sat with us at
dinner. The dog was lavished with presents and chewy toys and bones and
goodies. The dog played all day with my land lady and then at night it slept in
her bed. Oh yes. The dog slept with my
land lady.
So, after a week I decided to move into a flat with a lovely
cast member called Amanda. Much better. The show was the raciest thing to have
hit middle class northern white Harrogate in a while. We were a company of
black actors headed by the inimitable Ray Shell author of the booked ‘Iced’ and
flanked by the brilliant Wendy-Mae Brown, Amanda Posner and Simon Bishop. We
rehearsed in an arctic space off the town centre. My toes were so cold that I
could barely feel them and my fingers felt like they were going to drop off. We
wore woolly hats and scarves and two pairs of socks and set about learning the
show.
Originally it was a collection of songs written by Fatts
Waller with no real story line but a series of comedy songs mixed in with
tragic ones like ‘Black and Blue’. The music was exquisite and we were put
through our paces dancing wise as well by the choreographer.
I loved that show. Audiences were tentative to begin with but
shortly they flocked to see us in their droves and tried to shake off the good
ole English reserve by tapping their feet and cheering at famous songs like
‘your feet’s too big’ and ‘honey suckle rose’.
Laughing and talking loudly one day after a show myself,
Wendy and Amanda were strutting through the dark, street lamps shining, when a
bald Yorkshire man and his mate stopped dead in their tracks outside a fish and
chip shop. The bald man turned to his mate.
‘Am I in America?’ He asked brusquely.
His mate laughed a belly laugh. Or should I say his mate
laffed a belly laff. Obviously black people only live in America.
Ray Shell is a force to be reckoned with. What a man. He’s
the kind of guy who always has a million projects on the go all at once. One
day during rehearsals he came and sat with me while I was doing my usual thing
of sitting in a coffee shop reading and drinking hot chocolate.
‘So I’m thinking you could be in my film’. He began.
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah. I’ve kind of got this idea and my nephew and cousin
will be in it and you’re going to play the sister in the story.’
‘Ray. What do you mean? We’re in the middle of rehearsing a
musical. When were you thinking of doing a film?!’
‘Well, I thought we could shoot it in a week-end.’ He
continued oblivious. ‘Maybe next week-end. In Brighton.’
‘But we open on the Monday after that!’ I said incredulously.
‘So? So what. Plenty of time to get there and back and shoot
the film.’
You’ve got to hand it to the man. When he means business he
means business.
The next day a script appeared that he had sat up all night
writing. I was to learn it.
So I did.
On the Friday before we were opening ‘Ain’t Miss Behavin’ ‘
Ray and I and his friend Al the camera man drove to Brighton in a big white van
full of equipment. We picked up his nephew on the way- a tall good looking boy
of about….wait, he was about fifteen! I couldn’t play his sister surely.
‘Um Ray?’
‘Uh huh’
‘How old am I meant
to be in this film?’
‘About nineteen.’
About nineteen. Right. About nineteen. What the actual......?
I was thirty-two in three months!
‘It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Learn your words.’
It’ll be fine. Oh yeah. Easy for him to say. Now I was going
to have to wack on the slap. And I was knackered from rehearsing. Concealer
city.
It was freezing in Brighton but I had a huge amount of fun.
We worked all day extremely hard. There was a lot of waiting around in between
stuff. I ate lots of snacks. In the morning after a hearty breakfast of eggs
and sausage and toast we got to a flying start filming scenes with my film mum
and dad. We filmed in Ray’s family business a gorgeous restaurant near the sea
front to start with and graduated to peer front scenes and fairground scenes
and car scenes. I kept having to commit my lines to my short term memory as I
hardly had time to learn them and was forever putting makeup on, paranoid that
I looked twice my brother’s age.
I actually was twice my brother’s age.
Amazingly when I watched the film back a month or so later it
wasn’t too bad. The camera man Al needed a medal for his lighting technique….
By the time we all got back to London on Sunday night with
the film in the bag, the idea of catching a train to Harrogate on Monday
morning and opening the show that we had
been rehearsing for weeks made me feel a little bit green about the gills. I
stayed with my parents that night in Greenwich as I had let my flat out to a
family friend for a couple of months and duly alighted the long train up to
sunny Harrogate ready for our dress-rehearsal and first night.
I think the director Hannah could tell that Ray and I were
totally knackered and I’m not sure that she was best pleased. I felt a bit
shaky and spaced out before the show but once it was underway and my tricky
first solo was over (‘I like to tinkle on an ole piana’) I relaxed and I think
we were a knock out! Just goes to show that if you want something doing you
better ask a busy person. That person is most definitely Ray.
Back in London town after a wonderful couple of months
singing for a living I applied for the obligatory temporary jobs. I sent an
email answering an advert for a publishing company who were looking for staff
to help promote their business magazine. No selling, just calling people up for
a business award ceremony scheduled in a couple of months. Sounded okay. I got
an interview and it went well I thought. The following day I waited for a
reply. Nothing. Or the next day. By Friday I sent them an email thanking them
for seeing me and wishing them success with future ventures.
Blast.
I couldn’t even get a
temp job.
The following Monday I received an email. There had been an
error. They would love me to start work immediately. Phew. I started work and
began my commute to EC1. It was in curtain road. Would the curtain rise again
for me or was it, in fact, curtains? The irony of location was not lost on me.
I auditioned furiously.
A little bit Political
The job the job the job was BORING. What can I say? I was
placed in a room with a few other odd balls- actors mainly. Though one guy
actually seemed to do this for a living. We
sat on the phone all day ringing up clients and promoting the magazine and
inviting them to the event at The Dorchester Hotel, a dinner and award ceremony
for which there was no doubt a hefty price tag. I plugged away. Meanwhile my
agent phoned me about a new show that was coming to the West End called ‘Bat
Boy’ in addition to an audition for the part of Carmen in ‘Fame’ which was
already in town.
Every night I rushed home to commit yards of script and music
to memory. The 'Bat Boy' auditioning process was endless. First round was with
the casting director and the musical director. Second round and a choreographer
appeared. Third round and some American producers were flown over. Fourth round
and I was knackered. The final round was in RADA my old stomping ground of UCL
days. Here I was auditioning in the place which had inspired me years ago as a
view from my window I sang and acted my little socks off to the scary row of
Americans sat in a semi-circle filling up half the studio. It was tricky
vocally and pretty high but I had practised it for ever and a day. I knew that
by this stage there were only two or three of us to choose from.
Once it was all over I felt sort of deflated and thought that
I may as well go back to work and then go home and brood. The waiting to hear
game began. 'Fame' was a non-starter as although I was recalled they kept saying
things like:
‘Remember when you were a teenager? How would you have said that line?’
Okay.
I get the hint.
I’m too old.
Fair enough.
But with 'Bat Boy' I
thought I was in with a chance. Even though I was up against a very successful
pro. I was 32. I looked 25. I felt 96.
When the call came one sunny London morning to say that they
had ‘gone another way’ with the casting of 'Bat Boy' I was indescribably
disappointed. It was June. Money was really really
too tight to mention.
Then something funny happened. My sister had finished her
degree at Manchester University in the summer of 2004. She wanted to try her
luck as an actress also and unbeknown to me had looked up a part time job in
the back of the stage. At the same time my boss told me that a new girl was
coming to work for him the following day. Then my sister told me she had found
a job. And yup she duly turned up fresh as a daisy in my rubbish temp job in
the city.
She then proceeded to let my boss know that the job was a bit
rubbish (which it was) and proceeded to get the sack.
Before I too left the publishers to their own devices I
attended the Award dinner at the Dorchester. One, it was an excuse to get very
dressed up and two there was a huge three course meal and as much booze as you
could consume. All I had to do was slink about in a red dress guiding the
winners from the stage to their seats. Michael Portillo was the guest speaker.
He made a bee-line for our table and sat between me and a pretty back actress
who also temporarily worked for the company.
‘So!’ He enthused. ‘What do you ladies do?’
‘Well,’ I said ‘I’m probably going to be disappoint you when
I say that we are actors hired to help sell the company.’
He did look
disappointed. But requested a photo opportunity with him. He wanted us to be
either side of him holding up a copy of the magazine. And smile! It’s not every
day you get to be a political satellite.
It was at this point that a friend of mine Mary came up with
another temp job that I could do which might prove more lucrative-work as a
lettings agent in an Islington Estate Agents office. I said ‘yes’ immediately
and duly rang the boss to arrange to meet him. I rang and rang and rang and
rang and finally we met. This job would involve showing flats to students and
young professionals in and around the Islington area but the perk of the job
was that audition time was allowed so Mary and I could go off and do our
auditions and return to work afterwards and still get paid. Genius.
'Treved'
February 2005
Back in my flat in February 2005 I contemplated my life.
Let’s see: I was 32 years old, turning 33 in April and ready for a change a
change a change. I decided that a new agent was in order. I absolutely loved my
old agent. He was fruity, fun and got me tons of work but the trouble was I
wanted to push forward into television and ‘straight’ theatre as opposed to
‘musical theatre’. I wanted to be in a really classic production at The Royal
Court or The National. I reckoned the way in was to try for a bigger agency and
I duly wrote off to thirty different agents. I spent hours printing out and
reprinting my reviews to send to these agents. Then I put stamps on the
envelopes, having selected the agents to target in Contacts the actors hand
book, and I waited.
To my surprise and confusion envelopes started to be returned
to me and it dawned on me that I had unwittingly not paid enough postage. One
by one they thumped back on my doorstep. No-one paid the postage. No-one offered
me representation. What a waste of time.
Around this time I had an audition for Sir Trevor Nunn for
his workshop of Gershwin’s ‘Porgy and Bess’. I was quite excited having never
worked for him before. I learned my part thoroughly and dressed up for the
occasion. It was only for two weeks work but was a great opportunity as if the
rights were granted to Sir Trevor then a full scale production would ensue in
the coming year. I sang my best and awarded a recall. Finally I learned that I
had been offered one of the smaller parts ‘strawberry woman’ as I wasn’t quite
right for the part I originally sang for.
Trevor later told me I had been ‘too young and pretty’ for the part. Too
fat, too thin, too pretty, too old, too young, too…….what a job. Being
regularly advised you are not someone else’s idea of a character that some
other person has made up.
Working for Sir Trev was a blast. He has an interesting
persona, always wearing denim with holes in it and putting his arm around you
firmly and conspiratorially. This is known as having been ‘treved’. The
workshop was a triumph. I felt really excited to be part of a company of
brilliant black performers again. Heading up the company was Nicola Hughes who
I worked with in Blues in the Night at The Birmingham rep. She was playing
Bess. We met again in the green room and she said to me in dulcet tones: ‘Ah,
look at little Emma Jay all grown up.’ As I remember it I was two years older
than her. I think I probably still am……….
We performed our version of the grand opera Porgy and Bess in
the Cambridge Theatre to the famed Gershwin society. It was a renowned success
and they agreed for Sir Trevor to produce a version for the West End stage.
However, when it finally came around I was otherwise engaged.
During Spring/Summer 2005 I had a brain wave. I was out at a
friend’s Birthday party at So Sushi when a girl I knew through a friend told me
of a new agent she had signed with. I recognised the name of the agent and
realised that they represented my friend David who had performed with me in
Ragtime. It dawned on me that they would have seen me as Sarah at the
Piccadilly Theatre and that if I emailed them they might give me an interview.
Back at the work the next day slightly hung over I searched the net for an
email address for Barry Burnett of Burnett Grainger. And I found one. I duly
emailed Barry, a distinguished and brilliant central London agent and nearly
fell off my chair when he replied! He
knew who I was! He was pleased to have an interview with me! I was ecstatic.
Barry Burnett and Lyndsay Grainger were in based in a stylish
office in Burlington Street WC1. The interview went very well and I waited with
baited breath to see if they would take me on to their books. I would be
joining the ranks alongside Barbara Windsor and Dame this and Dame that. The
following day I had an email. They would be pleased to take me on. Then
followed the difficult and upsetting task of telling Adrian that I had moved
on. I felt sick as I purchased a huge bunch of sunflowers and travelled
somberly to his mansion flat in West Hampstead. It made me feel really sad and
I hoped I had made the right decision. Only time would tell.
A few days later I felt a renewed sense of vigour and worked
away as a jolly lettings agent anticipating fantastic auditions. Apart from
doing another workshop in The Bridewell Theatre called Burlesque not much
happened work wise that summer. However, there were always the internet guys to
keep me entertained.
Yes, folks. The internet. I had sunk that low. Musical
Theatre and other sources had delivered me to a place called no-where so I
decided to take matters into my own hands after a friend had success finding
her boyfriend (now married with daughter) on Match.com. With great trepidation
and excitement I registered my profile. Internet dating was fledgling at this
point and many people were under the impression that it was for the sad and
desperate.
I was actually sad and
desperate.
As it happened I did not gain success this way though many
friends of mine did, now with husbands and babies to show for it.
There was a man who informed me on one of our dates that I
had ‘a grey hair’ and who insisted on making me pay for petrol and having
separate mattresses so one person couldn’t cross over to the other side of the
bed. There was the man who on our one (and only) date looked at me quizzically
and said ‘I’m not used to my dates speaking English’. Nice.
And best of all there
was the banker who rang me as I was on my way and asked me to pick up some
condoms. What a gent! Chivalry is so not dead.
At the end of the summer I auditioned successfully for
Aladdin at Greenwich Theatre to play Princess So-Shy. I was really looking
forward to the job. It was local to my parent’s house and was next to Greenwich
Park. It would be a glorious Christmas. The fact that I would have to commute
from Walthamstow was a minor setback. I was so pleased to get the job as it was
the first with my brand new agent.
Princess Not-So-Shy, Greenwich again
Rehearsals were fantastic. I loved getting back into the
theatre after a summer of not much and enjoyed learning pantomime songs which
are always a real laugh. Before I met the cast, I looked up the people I would
be working with on google. (Come on everyone does this! Don’t they?) One member
looked promising: Jonathan Kemp. Quite handsome, I thought. He was the last
person to introduce himself to me on the first day. I thought he was like
Bambi- all sweet with long limbs and bashful. Then later I thought he had a
slightly dangerous twinkle in his blue eyes. One day when we were rehearsing my
Dad gave me a lift back from having lunch at my family home because it was near
the rehearsal rooms. Jonny, as I then discovered his name was, saw me leaving
my Dad’s big red car and asked me if that was my boyfriend. Bearing in mind
that my father was sixty-two at the time this was a facetious remark. Anyhow
this was to blossom into a friendship and then a kiss in the Hampstead tea
rooms that marked the beginning of my meeting with my husband.
Greenwich at Christmas was beautiful. Lovely Christmas
lights-turned on by myself and Aladdin after being hauled around town in minus
degrees in a horse drawn carriage freezing my tits off in my princess costume.
Aladdin and I turned on the lights to herald a very merry and fun Christmas
full of two show days, much gargling with port (good for the voice) and eating
mince pies. It even snowed!
Jonny and I had a romance that involved sneaking off for
little coffees and lovely suppers in bar de mussee. We told no-one as we didn’t
want the cast gossiping. In the show was a mad eccentric Dame called Liam who
had crazy red curly hair and a wicked glint in his eye. He talked about his
sexual conquests in loud whispers on stage describing the night, or even the
morning before in graphic detail. Charming! This manic depressive Dame enjoyed
terrorizing the children in the audience and was once known to stop the show
and glare at a poor unsuspecting pre-teen and demand that he stop texting right
now as it was really annoying him. Just like a packet of revels you never knew
what you were going to get!
I was feeling on top of the world when I received an audition
through from my agent.
‘Sweetie! I have an audition for you on January 2nd.
It’s for the R.S.C. Anthony and Cleopatra, The Tempest and Julius Caesar.
Fourteen months touring. Just turn up at the office and know the texts. Alright
sweetie? 2.30. Byee.’
Ooh. I had been asking for a miracle job and here it bloody
well was. I told absolutely no-one barring Jonny. The panto finished on the
previous Saturday and on the Tuesday night before the audition I could be found
in Borders perusing the texts and trying desperately to finish them before my
audition on Wednesday. I had started straight back at the lettings agency in
Islington and so was busy during the days.
Tuesday night at seven o’clock my phone rings.
‘What you doing?’ My sister Chloe.
‘Um, you know, not much. Just in Borders’.
‘Oh good. You can chat.’ Shit shit shit. No I could not. I
was nearly through reading Anthony and Cleopatra and had Julius Caesar to
tackle before the morning. Get off the phone!
‘Okaaaay. What’s up?’
‘Weeell. You know when I get married?’
‘Are you getting married?’
‘Well. Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Someday. I mean, well by the time I’m thirty.’
‘Okay. You’re twenty-three. So technically that’s seven years
away. Has Jonny (her boyfriend) asked you?’
‘No. But when I get married do you think I have to invite
great auntie Glenda? You know I mean she does have that problem where she gets
loud and drunk and starts shouting.’
‘Sure but a) no-one’s asked you to marry them and b) by the
time they do aunty Glenda might have a) died b) been to AA or c) I don’t have a
c) I just kind of need to get on with stuff. Can I ring you tomorrow?’
‘What stuff?’
‘Just……things.’
‘You have a BIG AUDITION.’
‘Well. No. I just need to chill out and get some sleep after
panto-mania.’
‘Okay. Bye.’
Act IV scene 1. Cleopatra: Oh Charmian, I will never go from
hence. Charmian: Be comforted dear Madam. Cleopatra: No, I will not: All
strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise…….’ The phone
rings. My other sister Antonia.
‘Hi Zem. Whatya doing?’
‘Just not much. Taking it easy. You?’
‘Oh, you know, sorting out drama school applications. Do you think
it’s worth applying to loads or just RADA, Guildhall and Bristol. I mean
central has a good reputation. I’m just not sure whether it’s better to
concentrate on one. What do you think?’
‘Well’ I glanced at my watch. I think. Fuck, shit it’s 7.30.
I have a play to finish and one to read and the second biggest audition of my
life tomorrow.
‘Well…’
‘Zem?’
‘I….’
‘Are you busy? I can phone you back later.’
‘Yes. No! We’ll speak tomorrow I’m just knackered. Go for as
many as possible. I should have. Love you.’ Click.
I was outside on a bench for all of this. Borders would be
closing in an hour or so. I would have to buy the plays, go home to my flat in
Walthamstow and crack on. It was freezing cold in January 2006 but my blood was
on the boil. I was excited and nervous and pleased. Jonny and I were still on
and I had a great opportunity.
The following day I took the afternoon off work and dressed
in basic black attire, no make-up to speak of and long loose straightened hair.
I made my way to the centre of town from angel and sat in Café Nero in Seven
Dials. I was early. Or so I thought. I
ordered a coffee and sat down feeling calm. Quick look at The Tempest and the
music that I was going to sing: Your Daddy’s son, Ragtime and I felt confident
and apprehensive at once butterflies dancing in my stomach and caffeine buzzing
in my brain. The phone rings. I look at the number. It is my agent. Quickly I
pick up.
‘Hi.’ She sounds concerned. ‘Where are you?’
‘What?’ I’m stunned.
‘You’re late for the casting. Greg (Doran) is waiting for
you.’
O-MI-GOD. I am late for a casting with the RSC.
‘You said two- thirty!!!!!’ A woman turned to look at me.
‘No. I said two.’
I slammed the cup down and raced up the road pressing the
buzzer to the office and panting hard.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Not to worry. Sit down and take your time.’ Turns out that
Greg Doran is one of the nicest men alive.
The audition process for the RSC season that year consisted
of three parts: a singing audition, reading Portia to the director of Julius
Caesar and meeting with the director of Anthony and Cleopatra for the part of
Iras. As I came out relieved and elated it was over I bumped into Allyson Brown
the Girl who had played Mimi in the Rent tour that I had not enjoyed. It was
really funny how we always seemed to be up against each other. She looks very
similar to my sister Antonia. Ah well. I thought. I really liked Allyson and I
knew the right person would get the job (let it be me! Let it be me!)
Blow me down with a ten ton weight of feathers but I was me! I rang my Dad.
‘I’ve got a job with the RSC. Fourteen months touring.
Stratford-Upon-Avon. Michigan. Newcastle and London’s West-End.’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’
‘Good Lord. I have to go someone’s phoning me. Chloe?’ Click.
Jonny said he knew I would get it. And weirdly two things had pointed towards
that being a possibility. One was Greg saying after I read for Iras: ‘Well you
could do that standing on your head’, and the other was the casting director
saying: ‘See you soon’ when she spotted me running home for the tube.
My offer was as follows: Iras, understudy Octavia and
Charmian in Anthony and Cleo with Patrick Stewart as Anthony and Harriet Walter
as Cleopatra and Goddess in The Tempest, understudy Miranda. Nothing in Julius
Caesar. This meant that I was contracted to do two plays where most people were
contracted to perform in three. Time off would abound. I was nervous and hyper
excited.
Mince not the general tongue
Rehearsals for the Royal Shakespeare Company Season were held
at 35 Clapham High Street a two minute walk from Clapham Tube. On the first day
I felt as nervous as I did before my driving test when I took beta blockers to
calm my nerves. I mean for goodness sake here I was a musical theatre actress
with one year of post graduate training at Mountview Theatre School with not a
jot of Shakespearean acting experience except for the good ole faithful
audition speech ‘I left no ring with her’ from Twelfth Night. However, I
thought as I tentatively approached the rehearsal rooms, I do have an English
degree and I did sit a six hour Shakespeare exam……..
My contract was as follows: Iras and understudy Charmian and
Octavia in Anthony and Cleopatra and Goddess and understudy Miranda in The
Tempest. Effectively I would be learning five parts in all. I was sick with
nerves, excitement and dread.
The next fourteen months were to be The Complete Works
Festival which meant that every known Shakespeare play or sonnet ever written
were to be performed in one year. The festival was the first time that all of
Shakespeare’s works have been staged at the same event. There were to be
twenty-three RSC shows, seventeen international productions and fourteen by UK
based visiting companies.
My fellow housemate and actor friend Minnie and I had a huge
party one evening at number 33 Waterside opposite the old RST where we lived in
Stratford to celebrate the end of all rehearsals. We had actors from all over
the world at that party: Cuba, America, India. It was extraordinary. You could
hardly move. We got very vey drunk.
So back to my first day where we began with a series of
brilliant workshops and read through Anthony and Cleopatra with Greg Doran. The
workshops consisted of flamenco dancing, African drumming, voice workshops,
sonnet study with the celebrated John Barton, work with voice coach Cicely
Berry and on and on. You would have paid good money for those few week. And I was being paid! Soon we moved to a studio up the road to begin rehearsing for
real.
We began with Anthony and Cleopatra and Julius Caesar. I
realised pretty quickly that this meant that I had loads of time off as both
plays had to be completed by the same date before we went up to Stratford in April.
It was only February and my time table looked empty. I had so little rehearsal
time that whenever there was a weekly Jon Barton tutorial I was free. I went
through my parts with him. I went through my understudy parts with him. I went
through my audition speeches. Then I ran out of ideas.
‘Hi John. Me again.’
He laughed with his crinkly eyes and popped another nicorette gum in his mouth.
‘When did you give up smoking?’ I piped up.
‘Oh. Years ago.’ He said.
‘Right’.
We became friendly. I
was invited to do some of his workshops in Stratford. I felt honoured.
It was a great company. I was nervous that I would not be
nearly as good as them so I reverted back to being a goody two shoes out of
fear. I bought note books and highlighters and wrote out all my parts
determined to commit everything to memory as quickly as possible. It was a
security blanket. Everyone appeared super bright but thankfully Greg had had us
all read through the play together line by line interpreting every word.
The weather was cold and February like and unbeknown to me I
was still dating my husband-to-be. The days were fun. That was going pretty
well apart from one minor detail which was that my husband-to be was in fact
already somebody else’s husband albeit with an absentee wife who skipped off
within two months of the getting spliced the previous year. That was an
underlying problem for me. I was never really comfortable with it. A divorce could not be allowed for another
year and a half if it was to be a matter of simple separation without
recrimination. I wasn’t entirely happy with the state of affairs. (Literally).
However, it was all too exciting with rehearsals and Valentine’s day and
getting ready to go to Stratford and sorting and digs. Minnie spotted me
looking at the notice board and offered me a room in her Waterside Cottage.
Immediately I was stunned and happy. The cottages were directly opposite the
theatres: The Swan and the old RST. I could get to work in thirty seconds! Of
course that meant I was destined to always be late. I could tell she would be a
fantastic flat mate. There were only four of us girls, not including Harriet
Walter, in the whole production and I felt that solidarity was in order. RSC
boys are most definitely a certain breed. Some would say of dog, but that would
be unkind or maybe even sour grapes.
Anyway, after eight weeks rehearsing we were ready to go up
to Stratford. I was buying a small ancient red Nissan Micra second hand from my
Dad’s dodgy garage men Tim and Barry. It would really help with going back and
forth from Stratford to London.
Stratford-Upon –Avon is a gorgeous town more like an
overgrown village. Our cottage was and still is miniscule but beautiful. Two
bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom. A tiny living room downstairs with through
kitchen and a door at the back to a patio garden. It was just right for the two
of us.
Arriving in Stratford was particularly fantastic as there
were celebrations organized for our arrival and the opening of Anthony and
Cleopatra and Julius Caesar plus celebrations for Shakespeare’s birthday. The
23rd April, two days before one. Walking into the Dirty Duck Pub
after the first day of rehearsal in the Swan theatre I had a feeling that I was
part of something utterly amazing that just doesn’t happen to many people. I
had been to the Dirty Duck pub once before visiting a friend and I never for a
million years thought that I would be part of such an amazing company sitting
legitimately in the pub that had served so many extraordinary actors over the
years.
The Duck, as it was fondly called, was a two minute walk from
number 33 Waterside where I lived for six amazing months. The river was
opposite our house and endless swans roamed the water day and night, up and
down, silent and beautiful, elegant and faithful. I loved sitting by the river
bank walk man in hand listening to
music, script in front of me, sun blaring down as it turned out to be one of
the hottest summers since ’76. It was so hot I got sunburned on my shoulders
whilst learning Miranda by the river. They went hot and red to touch. Mind you,
I was out there for three hours at midday. Mad dogs and Englishmen and all
that…….
The first show to go up was Anthony and Cleopatra but at the
same time most of the cast were rehearsing Julius Caesar which I wasn’t in. The
Tempest was the third play to go up. This meant that I had copius amounts of
hours to drink in my surroundings and most importantly become the proud owner
of a bike and cycle along the fabulous pathways out of Stratford along disused
railway lines passed a café in an old train run by a lovely couple. It was
incredibly romantic to ride along with music blaring in your head in the summer
heat and end up in the café supping sweet tea and muttering lines in my head
belonging to Miranda, Charmian and Octavia.
Once the main show was up and running to fantastic reviews
the second cast was called upon to rehearse the play again but in their
understudy roles. Charmian was a similar role to Iras in that she flanked the
queen so blocking wise I didn’t have too much to change, however, character
wise there was a world of difference. Iras is younger and says very few words
whereas Charmian is opinionated and the queen’s right hand woman. Octavia as
Caesar’s sister, who married Anthony after he left Cleopatra, is a dour and
straight character devoted to a man whose affections we are led to believe lie
elsewhere but to whom she bore two children. She finds herself torn between her
allegiance to her husband Anthony and her brother Caesar played in our
production with a strong incestuous link on behalf of Caesar. Octavia was to be
changed into from Charmian and back again in our understudy run so I was
certainly very busy. I loved it.
The Tempest was an entirely different experience. I had been
chosen by the director principally for my voice as the three Goddesses were
required to sing. This I understood. What I was unclear about was the
director’s vision for the play. As rehearsals finally got underway once Julius
Caesar had also opened it was already June and biting hot. I was raring to go
having had more time off than most and itching to know which Goddess I was to
play. Juno, Ceres or Iris? A couple of weeks into rehearsals and we still
didn’t know! We goddesses were getting a little bit twitchy. Then one day we were
called in for a chat.
‘So’ began the director, ‘What are these Goddesses actually
saying then?’ Duly the three of us began to explain the text with me referring
to my highlighted notes. It was clearly
not going to plan.
‘Mmm’ he mused. ‘But I mean really what does it all mean? Do
you think the average audience I going to get it?’
Well yes. The average
audience who has come all the way to Stratford to watch The Tempest is
absolutely going to get it.
‘No, no!’ Says our director. ‘It’s too difficult. I think we
should simplify it and that’s why we’re going to come up with our own language.
Our Goddesses are going to be inuits.’
And so Lana, Gala, Sala duly followed.
The strange inuit language created by Adam with his eerie
atonal music was joyous to sing. In addition I got to learn the lines for
Miranda and once we had opened I performed a wonderful show as Miranda in the
RST for the visiting companies. Hurrah hurrah for life’s funny twists and
turns! I started out in T.I.E and here I was in the R.S.C a with the chance to play a romantic
lead.
Sadly or possibly inevitably I chose to end the relationship
with husband-to-be. A few weeks later I ended up embroiled in a ridiculous
farce like affair with The Rogue from the season who wooed and shooed with the
practised ease of an early thirties womaniser. Thankfully it ended almost as
soon as it had begun and I spent the rest of the run a sorry singleton though
excited about my travels. After Stratford first stop Michigan. Then Newcastle
and then a five week break during which Minnie and I flew to my parent’s house
in Dominica. It’s a hard life.
The Tempest was a huge success. I adored the beautiful
snow-capped set complete with rocks and real snowflakes as we three made
ourselves known. Julian Bleach made a phenomenal Ariel and chose to move slowly
and deliberately round the stage in stark contrast to flitting and floaty
Ariels who have gone before and after. As he said, Ariel was supposed to move like
air but whoever said that air moved fast? I looked forward to every performance
and was especially pleased when it was announced that The Tempest and Anthony
and Cleopatra would both be performing in Michigan in October and that just The
Tempest would perform for a week in November when we got back.
Despite my confused and disconcerting love life I was having
an amazingly cultured and exotic time of it in my career. It was odd though.
Financially I was still finding being an actor tricky as I had to keep paying
my mortgage on my London flat and also pay for expenses in Stratford. Lots of
people had given up their flats or subleted them if they were renting but I
still wanted the London bolt hole at weekends so as not to go stir crazy in
Stratford. As a result I was still spending every penny. Still I was looking
forward to Michigan immensely and after a fun packed summer with first night
parties abounding I was ready come September to move on. Especially since The
Rogue suddenly acquired a new girlfriend who was at Bristol Old
Vic with my sister Antonia. I needed a week off to
recharge before flying to the US of A.
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