A Midsummer Night's Dream by Robert Swindells Page A

All
he
has to offer is his pretty face and some flattering words. You can’t feed a family on poncy hairdos and poems.’ He appealed to Theseus. ‘If my daughter persists in her refusal to marry Demetrius, I fear I’ll have no option but to do her in, or banish her from society. I hope you’ll back me up, sir.’
    Theseus looked at Hermia. ‘Do you understand your situation, girl? Defy your father, defy
me
, and you’ll either die or be sent far away to live the life of a drudge. Such is the fate of a disobedient daughter.’
    Hermia shook her head. ‘Lysander is as good as Demetrius, sir.’
    Theseus nodded. ‘I dare say he is, but your father approves of Demetrius, not Lysander.’
    â€˜Well then, let my
father
marry Demetrius and I’ll marry Lysander.’
    Theseus frowned. ‘You have until May Day to reflect, Hermia. That’s four days. On that day, Hippolyta and I will marry, and if you haven’t consented by then to marry Demetrius, you’ll suffer the consequences.’ He turned to Egeus. ‘Come with me, Egeus. You, too, Demetrius. I need to speak to you in private.’
    The three men left, followed by Hippolyta.
    As soon as they were alone, Lysander turned to his love. ‘Listen, Hermia,’ he murmured, ‘we don’t have long. I’ve got an auntie who lives miles away from here. We can go to her, she’ll put us up, hide us. We can marry there, and there’ll be nothing anybody can do about it.’
    Hermia nodded. ‘What d’you want me to do?’
    Lysander gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Remember the wood – Cottingley Wood – where I saw you once with Helena?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Meet me there tomorrow night.
Will
you?’
    The girl’s eyes shone. ‘Try and stop me!’
    â€˜Good.’ Lysander glanced towards the door. ‘Sssh! Here comes Helena now.’
    Hermia composed herself, and smiled as her friend walked in. ‘Hi, gorgeous, where you off to?’
    â€˜Gorgeous,
me
?’ Helena scoffed. ‘I wish I
was
gorgeous: drop-dead gorgeous, then Demetrius might love me instead of you.’
    Hermia shrugged. ‘I don’t know what he sees in me, Helena, I really don’t. I try to shake him off, but the more I diss him, the harder he chases me. The more I hate him, the more he loves me. ’Tisn’t
my
fault he’s daft.’ She smiled and whispered, ‘Never mind, listen. Demetrius won’t be seeing me any more. We’re off tomorrow night, Helena. Me and Lysander. We’ll meet in Cottingley Wood, where you and I used to play. Then it’s away, where nobody will ever find us.’
    Helena looked at Lysander, who nodded.
    Hermia touched her friend’s arm. ‘Wish us luck, Helena. I hope things work out for you with Demetrius.’
    When the two conspirators had left, Helena sat thinking.
If I warn Demetrius that Hermia’s eloping, she thought, perhaps he’ll be grateful to me. That’s not much, but it’s better than being ignored. And who knows: when he sees how determined Hermia is to dump him, maybe he’ll turn to me for consolation. How cool will that be
?

    With six guys in it, Quince’s bedsit was packed. Quince sat on the bed and looked at the five lads sitting crosslegged on his floor. They were all on the dole, doing a drama course at college to pass the time.
    â€˜All here, are we?’
    â€˜You could call the register, like at college,’ suggested Bottom sarcastically.
    Everybody groaned. College is an OKplace to hang out when you’re unemployed, but they do tend to treat you like kids.
    Quince ignored the sarcasm. ‘I’ve got all your names in this notebook. I’ll sing ’em out, and you can say “Present, sir”.’
    Bottom shook his head. ‘Why don’t you tell us about this gig you’ve landed us – this play