Chapter 23
GOLDENWYCH, PRESENT DAY
‘…And, of course, I’ll pay for the damage to the ceiling rose in the dining room and the wisteria on the balcony.’
Caitlin dropped her shoulder bag onto a seat and glanced over at her sister.
The theatre was filling with people for the first musical rehearsal and the revelation of soloists.
With the nights drawing in, the room was becoming shadowy as only the wall lights had been turned on, but this did not stop the majority of the players casting interested looks towards Gillian and George Glossop, who stood in a gloomy corner near the stage.
Lee was at his father’s shoulder, his face in shadow.
Even from the distance she had placed between them, Caitlin could tell from Gillian’s stance that her sister was irritated, but then she remembered Lee’s comments about tells and looked more closely.
Despite Gillian’s folded arms, her foot was tapping, a sign her anger was superficial.
She was making a point but Caitlin knew she was also battling to contain her amusement.
Her tell is her foot, thought Caitlin, like mine is clenching my teeth.
Her eyes wandered to Lee and she felt a swoop of attraction, which she squashed, refusing to acknowledge these strange new emotions.
She turned hastily away before removing her sunglasses, hoping the make-up she had applied would disguise her red-rimmed eyes enough to halt anyone making sympathetic enquiries.
Gillian’s voice floated back to her, her tone clipped, as Caitlin pulled her annotated copy of the script of King Lear – The Musical from her bag, along with a pen, notebook and tablet which she opened. She began scrolling through pages, half-listening to her sister’s response.
‘You’re missing the point, Uncle George,’ said Gillian. ‘What was so upsetting was coming home after a tiring night resolving issues at the factory to find the house in such a terrible state. If it was the first time, I might have been more understanding but it’s been every night this week…’
‘Come on, Gilly-Bean,’ said Alan in what Caitlin was sure he thought was a persuasive and conciliatory tone, ‘your dad, George and I were working on the choreography for the musical swordfight in Act One, Scene Four. We cleared up.’
Lee suppressed a laugh, turning it into a cough when Gillian glared at him.
‘Do men never grow up?’ she said.
Without waiting for an answer, she stalked off to sit on her own, pulling out her phone.
Annie, Barbara and Daphne approached George, while Lee wandered over to Caitlin.
‘What’s happened now?’ she asked.
‘Dad, Alan and Uncle Larry were a bit too enthusiastic and trashed Gilly’s living room.’
‘Ouch,’ she said. ‘Gilly hates mess.’
‘Red wine all over the white rug didn’t help matters,’ he said.
‘Do you think she’s all right?’ asked Caitlin, looking over to her elder sister, who was hunched over her phone, engrossed.
As they watched, Gillian began typing rapidly, a closed, disappointed look on her face.
‘Who knows with Bean?’ sighed Lee. ‘She was always the best actor and none of us have ever been able to tell when it was the real her or just acting a part.’
‘True,’ said Caitlin.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Lee, looking at the notes Caitlin had written on her script and in the open notebook. ‘We’re not stage managers this time, we don’t have to make endless comments about cues and prompts.’
‘They’re neither,’ replied Caitlin. ‘We both know Dad’s scripts are quite rambling in their first drafts but, usually, he and I work on them together…’
‘You mean you rewrite them,’ said Lee with a grin.
‘We edit them,’ she said and managed a smile, ‘but this time, with Dad not talking to me, it’s impossible for me to offer improvements.
The story doesn’t make sense and everyone else is either too polite or too worried he’ll throw another hissy fit and threaten to withdraw funding if they challenge him.
I’ve been doing some research and he’s not only used the story from Shakespeare’s version of Lear, he’s also used some of Nahum Tate’s, as well as Holinshed’s Chronicles and Geoffrey of Monmouth and I think there are a few scenes from both Hamlet and Macbeth in there too, and another exchange that I think comes from Mamma Mia—’
‘Slow down,’ interrupted Lee. ‘Who are all those other people?’
‘Sorry. I’ve become so immersed in the Lear story, I keep forgetting how unimportant it is to most people.’
‘It’s important to me,’ said Lee and Caitlin squeezed his hand in appreciation.
She was not yet ready to confide the other reasons for her research into the play, specifically Cordelia. Lee was always on her side, but even to her own ears, trying to explain the growing dreams and visions she was experiencing would sound peculiar and she did not want to worry him.
‘Quick history lesson?’ asked Caitlin and Lee nodded.
‘Shakespeare made the legend of Lear famous when he wrote the play in either 1605 or 1606 – there’s no definite date.
He based it on a tale in a book called the Holinshed’s Chronicle, which had been published in 1577, with a second version ten years later. ’
‘What was the Holinshed’s Chronicle?’
‘A series of folktales about early Briton and they were all drawn from Geoffrey of Monmouth’s book, The History of the Kings of Britain, which was first published in 1135,’ said Caitlin, her words tumbling out in her desire to share all she had discovered.
‘Before this, British historians tended to begin the history of Britain with the Romans, but Geoffrey wrote a detailed document dating back to Brutus, the Trojan prince, who brought the first people to Albion, as Britain was called then. Geoffrey’s was also one of the first known tellings of the King Arthur myth and it contained the origin of the story Shakespeare used for King Lear, which was set in the Iron Age. ’
‘Shakespeare’s is set in an earlier time period too,’ said Lee. ‘It’s why your dad wants us all to wear Viking costumes.’
‘The Iron Age is much earlier than the Vikings,’ explained Caitlin. ‘The original would have been roughly 860 BCE.’
‘That’s a long time ago.’
‘There’s also a version of King Lear with a happy ending which has crept into Dad’s play too,’ continued Caitlin.
‘You’re joking,’ said Lee.
‘No, it’s why Dad’s put in a few romantic scenes between us as Cordelia and Edgar,’ she said.
‘There was a playwright called Nahum Tate who reworked Lear and gave it a love story between Cordelia and Edgar. It finished with a happy ending where Cordelia survives and marries Edgar. It was first performed in’ – she checked her notes – ‘1681 and it was used until the Victorian era when the tragic ending was reinstated—’
A sudden burst of music caused them both to look up, followed by the house lights flickering on, illuminating the auditorium.
‘Are you and Slick ready for your big number tonight?’ asked Caitlin, stowing her notebook, tablet and pen back in her bag as there were general movements from the wandering crowd to indicate the rehearsal was about to begin.
‘Don’t,’ sighed Lee. ‘With Dad, we’re the chosen ones who know the musical running order and your dad plans for us to open the rehearsal to put everyone in the mood for a song.’
‘What else has he chosen?’
‘Do you remember the Eminem song, “The Real Slim Shady”?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your dad’s rewritten the opening to ask, Would the real King Lear please stand up?’
Caitlin giggled and Lee looked at her properly for the first time.
‘What’s happened?’ he whispered, gripping her arm and moving her away from the enquiring looks of Annie, Barbara and Daphne, who had taken seats nearby.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, shaking him off.
‘Your eyes – you look as though you’ve been crying for hours,’ said Lee.
Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin saw Barbara leaning towards them trying to eavesdrop. Daphne was tapping urgently on her phone, looking unnerved.
‘Come outside for a minute and I’ll tell you,’ she said, heading towards the exit, with Lee a step behind her.
‘Hey, bro,’ said Edward as he breezed past them in the doorway, his eyes searching the crowd and lighting on Rachel, who had appeared in the kitchen hatch, ‘ready for our duet?’
‘As I’ll ever be,’ Lee murmured. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Caitlin led the way around the side of the theatre and into the adjoining graveyard, where a bench was hidden in a sheltered spot. It was a place they had congregated as teenagers.
Caitlin sat down and dropped her head into her hands, feeling her tears welling again.
‘Stan happened,’ she said.
‘What’s he done?’
‘Accused you and me of having an affair.’
‘What? How dare he?’ Lee was furious.
‘He dared and after he’d suggested we’d spent the afternoon in bed, he announced he’s accepted a new position in an urban parish in Newcastle. He’s starting in three weeks.’
‘Are you going too?’
‘No,’ she said and held up her left hand. ‘I ended the engagement.’
‘But couldn’t you work things out?’ asked Lee.
‘Not really,’ she replied.
‘Perhaps when you’ve calmed down?’ Lee suggested.
‘No,’ continued Caitlin. ‘While Stan was listing all the compliments the bishop had paid him when his new position was confirmed, I thought about a conversation Mum, Sindy and I had once. It was after Sindy’s husband, Ricky, had done the same thing, accused her of having an affair.
Sindy was devastated and told us she had no idea where the accusation had arisen.
Mum, very wisely, suggested it sounded like projection.
The uneasy conscience of a man who had either been unfaithful or was preparing to cheat.
If the guilty person can find a cause or someone to blame, it allows them to justify their bad behaviour. ’
‘And had Ricky?’ said Lee.
‘Yes, it was why Sindy left him,’ said Caitlin.
‘I didn’t know,’ said Lee.