Chapter Eleven #3
She drones on and I sit frozen on the chair.
I remind myself that I come from a culture of television series and blockbuster movies, of CGI and sophisticated special effects and animation.
I can even watch a movie on my phone! These people have only recently begun to go to the cinema to watch silent films in black and white.
For them theatre is one of the few forms of entertainment they can enjoy, and while I feel a moment’s smugness at the marvel of modern technology which they will never know, I realise that they enjoy something that is later lost to us.
Something special that we will never know: the close-knit community life of family and friends who share pastimes that bring them constantly together, whether it be circus, fair, theatre, fête, card games, treasure hunts or picnics.
Our wonderful technology seems to be thrusting us more and more into isolation and society is suffering a plague of loneliness in spite of the many gadgets that are meant to make communication easier.
I sit stiffly as Gilda makes her way tediously through each verse – truly, it’s like wading through concrete – and reflect upon the differences between this time and mine and feel a little ashamed of my initial sense of superiority.
I’m not sure having a smartphone and internet makes me better, it just makes me different, and possibly more alone.
What hasn’t changed is the human heart. In an ever-changing world love remains the same. Perhaps it’s the only thing that always has been, and always will be, constant.
I want to reach out and take Cavill’s hand, but I cannot.
I fold mine in my lap and wait with increasing impatience for Gilda to finish.
When she finally ends with a dramatic pause, everyone claps.
She climbs out of the boat and takes a graceful bow.
The clapping seems to last a long time. I pray no one shouts ‘Encore’. Thankfully they do not.
The curtain closes and Gilda disappears behind it. I turn to Cavill. ‘She was magnificent,’ I say, trying to mask what I really think.
He smiles knowingly. ‘Wasn’t she, indeed,’ he replies, and I’m sure I detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
We stand and are immediately gathered into a group of enthusiastic guests, who are keen to congratulate Cavill on his wife’s performance. ‘Well, wasn’t that a delight,’ says one, and I stare at him in disbelief. How could it have been a delight? It was excruciating.
‘Wasn’t she marvellous,’ enthuses another. ‘A mesmerising Lady of Shalott.’
An elderly man with fluffy sideburns pats Cavill heartily on the back. ‘My dear fellow, I look forward to Macbeth with bated breath,’ he says. ‘To see the dazzling Gilda Garrett play Lady Macbeth will be a veritable treat. Capital!’
Can they really think she’s so marvellous? I mean, she’s as far from Meryl Streep as it’s possible to be!
Cavill accepts their praise with dignity.
I agree, because I must. It’s only when Gilda steps into the room, changed out of her costume and wig, into a stunning white and gold floor-length dress, with strings of pearls on her wrists and diamonds in her short blonde hair, that I understand this audience’s enthusiasm.
She looks every inch the American film star.
She oozes glamour, wealth, charm and joy.
She’s like a dazzling star in a universe of rocks, and she eclipses everyone.
I watch her face light up when she spots her husband, and she makes her way gracefully through the throng towards him.
I’m struck by a stab of jealousy, which is irrational considering he’s in love with Eddie.
The very fact that Gilda gets to share his life is enough to give me pain, when I am parted from him by almost a century and can never share more than days with him.
I should be jealous of Eddie too, but right now I am Eddie, so my jealousy is also felt on her behalf.
Eddie and I are one, for the moment, at least. I glance at Cavill.
His expression reveals nothing of what he really feels. He smiles and holds out his hands.
Gilda tilts her head this way and that in response to people’s compliments, and her smile is truly radiant.
Each person she speaks to looks as if they’ve just been given the sacrament.
I’m dumbfounded. I didn’t expect this. No wonder poor Nessa doesn’t get a look-in.
Gilda might not be a great actress, or even a good one, but she is obviously much admired.
She takes Cavill’s hands and offers him her smooth cheek, as pale and silken as cream.
He kisses it dutifully. My stomach clenches but my smile is fixed upon my face like a mask.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him intimate with another woman, for in my past two slides, I was that woman. I can barely endure it.
I wonder how Eddie feels. Whether she suffers as much as I do, or whether she’s confident of his devotion.
After all, I have merely five days, she might have a lifetime.
Perhaps she can afford to be patient. But I have to end it, while for her it’s only just beginning.
Unless in ending it for me, I end it also for her.
How can I sever my connection with Cavill without ruining it for Eddie?
Do I want to?