but it was always a pleasure to watch Sarah in action. During her visits to the theatre she’d got to know several of the company and she smiled when one of the stagehands sat down beside her. Julian Reynolds was a young lad, barely out of school, with flyaway blond hair and a somewhat diffident manner.
When the director called for a break, he broke into spontaneous applause. ‘Your sister’s very good, isn’t she?’ he whispered.
‘I think so – but maybe I’m prejudiced,’ Louise laughed.
‘Do you sing – or act?’ he asked.
‘Oh no. Sarah’s the performer in the family.’
‘I wondered why you were here.’
‘I wanted to be with my sister – and I’m looking for a job,’ she said. She didn’t want to embarrass Sarah by telling the young man that she was acting as a sort of chaperon. Sarah at nearly eighteen thought she was quite grown-up enough to manage on her own.
‘What sort of a job do you want?’ Julian asked.
‘I don’t know – I’m not good at anything, really,’ Louise confessed.
‘Can you paint?’
Louise remembered how she’d enjoyed drawing and painting as a child. But she didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. ‘What sort of painting?’
‘Well, I happened to hear the stage manager saying that they needed more hands backstage to paint the scenery and such like.’
‘Haven’t they got all the scenery they need for this show?’ Louise was puzzled until Julian explained that with so many set changes, the background scenery – flats as they were called – got knocked about and often needed touching up and repairing.
‘I thought maybe you could help with that,’ he told her, ‘but of course it’s up to Mr Baxter.’ Julian got up and went back to work after pointing him out.
When she’d summoned up the courage to approach Phil Baxter, the stage manager, he looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. ‘Do you sing? Have you ever wanted to act?’ he barked.
‘No, no,’ she stammered.
‘Never?’
‘No, not at all.’
The man sighed with relief. ‘Thank God for that. Most people who claim that they’ll do anything – yes anything – to work in theatre, even making the tea, only see it as a way in. They all see themselves as the next Henry Irving or Florrie Ford.’
Louise had no idea who he was talking about and hastened to explain that she’d moved to London to keep an eye on her sister – he knew that anyway – but she had to earn some money. She smiled gratefully when he said in a gentler voice that they’d take her on at ‘fifteen bob a week’ as general dogsbody.
If it hadn’t been for Lucia Lane, Sarah would have been on cloud nine. Working in the theatre was all she’d dreamt it would be. But Lucia, the nominal star of the show, was jealous of Sarah’s success.
Arriving for rehearsals she’d been somewhat in awe of Lucia, who had held centre stage at most of the West End theatres for the past few years. But the singer had taken her under her wing, delighting in showing her the ropes.
Basking in her friendship and kindness, Sarah had been quite taken aback by the abrupt change in her demeanour the day after the first reviews came out.
The critics waxed lyrical over Sarah’s performance, predicting that the world would soon hear more of the newcomer. Lucia received only a perfunctory mention.
‘I don’t understand it, Lou,’ Sarah complained as they relaxed in their sitting room at Grenville Terrace. ‘She was so nice to me at first – I thought we were going to be friends.’
‘She’s jealous of your success that’s all. She’s used to being the centre of attention.’
‘But it’s not as if we’re rivals. I couldn’t sing the part of Jo to save my life. Lucia’s perfect for it with her deep rich voice. I’m a soprano – she’s never going to be in competition with me for parts.’
‘I expect it’ll all blow over – besides, this show won’t run forever. You’ll both probably move on elsewhere
When the director called for a break, he broke into spontaneous applause. ‘Your sister’s very good, isn’t she?’ he whispered.
‘I think so – but maybe I’m prejudiced,’ Louise laughed.
‘Do you sing – or act?’ he asked.
‘Oh no. Sarah’s the performer in the family.’
‘I wondered why you were here.’
‘I wanted to be with my sister – and I’m looking for a job,’ she said. She didn’t want to embarrass Sarah by telling the young man that she was acting as a sort of chaperon. Sarah at nearly eighteen thought she was quite grown-up enough to manage on her own.
‘What sort of a job do you want?’ Julian asked.
‘I don’t know – I’m not good at anything, really,’ Louise confessed.
‘Can you paint?’
Louise remembered how she’d enjoyed drawing and painting as a child. But she didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. ‘What sort of painting?’
‘Well, I happened to hear the stage manager saying that they needed more hands backstage to paint the scenery and such like.’
‘Haven’t they got all the scenery they need for this show?’ Louise was puzzled until Julian explained that with so many set changes, the background scenery – flats as they were called – got knocked about and often needed touching up and repairing.
‘I thought maybe you could help with that,’ he told her, ‘but of course it’s up to Mr Baxter.’ Julian got up and went back to work after pointing him out.
When she’d summoned up the courage to approach Phil Baxter, the stage manager, he looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. ‘Do you sing? Have you ever wanted to act?’ he barked.
‘No, no,’ she stammered.
‘Never?’
‘No, not at all.’
The man sighed with relief. ‘Thank God for that. Most people who claim that they’ll do anything – yes anything – to work in theatre, even making the tea, only see it as a way in. They all see themselves as the next Henry Irving or Florrie Ford.’
Louise had no idea who he was talking about and hastened to explain that she’d moved to London to keep an eye on her sister – he knew that anyway – but she had to earn some money. She smiled gratefully when he said in a gentler voice that they’d take her on at ‘fifteen bob a week’ as general dogsbody.
If it hadn’t been for Lucia Lane, Sarah would have been on cloud nine. Working in the theatre was all she’d dreamt it would be. But Lucia, the nominal star of the show, was jealous of Sarah’s success.
Arriving for rehearsals she’d been somewhat in awe of Lucia, who had held centre stage at most of the West End theatres for the past few years. But the singer had taken her under her wing, delighting in showing her the ropes.
Basking in her friendship and kindness, Sarah had been quite taken aback by the abrupt change in her demeanour the day after the first reviews came out.
The critics waxed lyrical over Sarah’s performance, predicting that the world would soon hear more of the newcomer. Lucia received only a perfunctory mention.
‘I don’t understand it, Lou,’ Sarah complained as they relaxed in their sitting room at Grenville Terrace. ‘She was so nice to me at first – I thought we were going to be friends.’
‘She’s jealous of your success that’s all. She’s used to being the centre of attention.’
‘But it’s not as if we’re rivals. I couldn’t sing the part of Jo to save my life. Lucia’s perfect for it with her deep rich voice. I’m a soprano – she’s never going to be in competition with me for parts.’
‘I expect it’ll all blow over – besides, this show won’t run forever. You’ll both probably move on elsewhere
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