of the highbrow to him was the piano player.’
‘Professor Henman?’
Harry nodded. ‘If your Miss Ursula presents them with Shakespeare, she’s—’
‘Next!’ came the call from the auditorium.
The little girls onstage faltered in mid-song. Their mother fluttered anxiously in the far wings. ‘W … would you like a different tune, sir?’ called Milly, peering past the brightness of the limes to the darkness beyond. ‘We do a lovely version of—’
‘You’re too young. Next!’
‘We—’
‘NEXT, damn your eyes! NEXT!’
The little girls leapt in shock at the unexpected roar. Patsy burst into tears, and they fled to their mother’s scandalised arms.
‘Never mind, m’dears,’ whispered Miss Ursula as they stumbled past her in the far wings. ‘It has happened to the best of us.’ She spread her arms, and the glitter on her magnificent costume haloed her in light as she swept onto the stage.
‘Oh God,’ groaned Harry. ‘She’s ancient! What’s she thinking in that dress?’
‘Shh, Harry. Listen to her.’
The old lady stopped mid-stage, her kohl-ringed eyes glaring out at the surrounding darkness. There was silence. She lifted her arm. ‘Come,’ she ordered. ‘Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts; unsex me here. Fill me from my crown unto my toe, top-full of direst cruelty.’
She paused, searching the dark air of the auditorium, as if waiting for the spirits to come forth as ordered, and she looked so compelling that Harry felt himself lean forward – drawn in.
Miss Ursula pressed her hand to her heart. ‘Make thick my blood. Stop up the access and passage to remorse, so that no compunctious visitings of nature shall shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts. Take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances you wait on nature’s mischief.’
Another long silence followed as the old woman awaited an answer from the ringing void. The light from her dress shivered against her papery skin and gave her face all the authority of age as, once again, she held her arm out to the darkness and commanded it.
‘Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, to cry unto me, “Hold.”’
A whisper came from the darkness. ‘No.’
The old woman paused, frowning as if uncertain of what she had heard.
‘No,’ whispered the voice in the darkness again, and then, as if in panic, it shouted: ‘No! No! Off!’
Tina stepped forward, Harry at her side, both of them appalled by this terrible reaction to what had been a mesmerising performance.
‘Get off!’ cried the now unmistakable voice of Lord Wolcroft. ‘Get off the stage, you old crone ! AND TAKE OFF THAT DAMNED DRESS!’
Miss Ursula froze for the briefest of moments. Then she graced her audience with a stiff bow and swept from the stage.
‘Miss U,’ cried Tina, rushing to her. But Miss Ursula simply held a hand out in dismissal, and then continued on down the steps to the backstage corridor, where her costume caught whatever dim light it could and cast it in glitter onto the shabby ceiling and walls before she rounded the corner and was out of sight.
‘Poor lady,’ whispered Tina. ‘Poor, poor …’ She made a helpless gesture. Then, suddenly, she was angry – she was raging – and Harry had to step away from her as she kicked the sandbags with a ferocity he hadn’t witnessed in her before.
Harry cast about for words of comfort, but before he could even speak Tina had contained herself, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, her breathing deep in the light-filtered half dark.
‘Joe knew,’ she said. ‘He told me Miss U was too old. He said that’s all the world can see of her now. How old she is. And he was right .’
She compressed her mouth and eyes against more rage. ‘Joe,’ she whispered.
‘He’ll
‘Professor Henman?’
Harry nodded. ‘If your Miss Ursula presents them with Shakespeare, she’s—’
‘Next!’ came the call from the auditorium.
The little girls onstage faltered in mid-song. Their mother fluttered anxiously in the far wings. ‘W … would you like a different tune, sir?’ called Milly, peering past the brightness of the limes to the darkness beyond. ‘We do a lovely version of—’
‘You’re too young. Next!’
‘We—’
‘NEXT, damn your eyes! NEXT!’
The little girls leapt in shock at the unexpected roar. Patsy burst into tears, and they fled to their mother’s scandalised arms.
‘Never mind, m’dears,’ whispered Miss Ursula as they stumbled past her in the far wings. ‘It has happened to the best of us.’ She spread her arms, and the glitter on her magnificent costume haloed her in light as she swept onto the stage.
‘Oh God,’ groaned Harry. ‘She’s ancient! What’s she thinking in that dress?’
‘Shh, Harry. Listen to her.’
The old lady stopped mid-stage, her kohl-ringed eyes glaring out at the surrounding darkness. There was silence. She lifted her arm. ‘Come,’ she ordered. ‘Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts; unsex me here. Fill me from my crown unto my toe, top-full of direst cruelty.’
She paused, searching the dark air of the auditorium, as if waiting for the spirits to come forth as ordered, and she looked so compelling that Harry felt himself lean forward – drawn in.
Miss Ursula pressed her hand to her heart. ‘Make thick my blood. Stop up the access and passage to remorse, so that no compunctious visitings of nature shall shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts. Take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances you wait on nature’s mischief.’
Another long silence followed as the old woman awaited an answer from the ringing void. The light from her dress shivered against her papery skin and gave her face all the authority of age as, once again, she held her arm out to the darkness and commanded it.
‘Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, to cry unto me, “Hold.”’
A whisper came from the darkness. ‘No.’
The old woman paused, frowning as if uncertain of what she had heard.
‘No,’ whispered the voice in the darkness again, and then, as if in panic, it shouted: ‘No! No! Off!’
Tina stepped forward, Harry at her side, both of them appalled by this terrible reaction to what had been a mesmerising performance.
‘Get off!’ cried the now unmistakable voice of Lord Wolcroft. ‘Get off the stage, you old crone ! AND TAKE OFF THAT DAMNED DRESS!’
Miss Ursula froze for the briefest of moments. Then she graced her audience with a stiff bow and swept from the stage.
‘Miss U,’ cried Tina, rushing to her. But Miss Ursula simply held a hand out in dismissal, and then continued on down the steps to the backstage corridor, where her costume caught whatever dim light it could and cast it in glitter onto the shabby ceiling and walls before she rounded the corner and was out of sight.
‘Poor lady,’ whispered Tina. ‘Poor, poor …’ She made a helpless gesture. Then, suddenly, she was angry – she was raging – and Harry had to step away from her as she kicked the sandbags with a ferocity he hadn’t witnessed in her before.
Harry cast about for words of comfort, but before he could even speak Tina had contained herself, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, her breathing deep in the light-filtered half dark.
‘Joe knew,’ she said. ‘He told me Miss U was too old. He said that’s all the world can see of her now. How old she is. And he was right .’
She compressed her mouth and eyes against more rage. ‘Joe,’ she whispered.
‘He’ll
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