Forty-Three Lucie
Forty-Three
LUCIE
I wish it wasn’t Romeo and Juliet .
I know why it is and why it has to be: this final day of shows will feature our ‘greatest hits’. R all presented as true only for as long as the performance lasts.
That’s us now. I was wrong to think we could ever be anything else.
I reach for the shawl. The warmth of his fingers through the fine lace is immediate, impossible to miss.
‘Okay,’ I whisper back, keeping my hand there a moment longer than I should. ‘Let’s do what she wants.’
The shawl returns to my side as Theo’s hand falls back to his. A hundred thousand words bridge the space between us, but Ced’s voice is all we allow to speak.
He’s giving the speech he wanted to give for so long, the reason he agreed to coach Theo and me. Act III, Scene 1: one of the most famous Shakespeare soliloquies. Hamlet suits him, as he always insisted it would. The breathless silence as the audience watch him is just reward for the time he’s waited to play this part.
‘… Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought …’
‘He’s killing it,’ Theo says. ‘Knew he would.’
‘Me too.’
The air stills between us.
Ced reaches his final lines as Theo and I observe each other.
We’re both hurt. We’re both due on stage. In this at least, we’re united. Ced’s right: the performance is all that matters now. Everything else can wait till later.
‘Ready?’ Theo asks.
‘Prepare for a fight,’ I reply as I pass him.
Willing all the life and spirit of Kate into my body, I wait for Ophelia’s introduction and stride out onto the stage.