Chapter 2
Two
‘THE SCOTTISH PLAY,’ MALCOLM bellowed, clapping his hands together in front of him. ‘Jealousy. Greed. Murder. Ambition.’
It was our final term of first year and we were moving from Shakespearean comedy to tragedy: Macbeth. Malcolm Hurst was assigned to direct us. After eight weeks of Frida, this came as a relief. Malcolm, despite his lingering gaze, was a soft touch by comparison.
‘A robust, bloody text, a masterpiece of gore and wisdom.’
We sat at his feet, pads open, pens poised, waiting for him to finish proselytizing and move on to the thing we actually cared about: casting.
‘Now, I don’t want to split parts this term, so – sorry, girls – some of you will be playing men this time around, I’m afraid.’
Murmurs, whispers.
‘Right, let’s get started.’ He glanced down at his small brown leather notebook. ‘We shall begin with our Scottish hero. Obi, you will be playing Macbeth.’
Obi ran a hand over his head. ‘Thanks, sir.’
Everyone sat up a little straighter.
‘Stefano, I’d like you to take the role of Banquo.’
Stefano made a fist and muttered something in Italian while the shoulders of the boys around him slumped.
Malcolm continued listing names. ‘Macduff, Matthew. King Duncan, Tiff. Lady Macduff, Poppy . . .’
I bit my lip.
‘The Doctor, Archie. Donalbain, Seamus. Lola, you’ll be playing Fleance . . .’
He still hadn’t said my name.
‘Victoria, Jolly and Hettie, I’d like you to play The Witches. And Shannon, I’d like you to take the role of Lady Macbeth, please.’
I stared at the floor. My skin felt hot.
‘Please familiarize yourselves with your individual characters when you read the play tonight, and yes, I do expect you to all read the play again tonight. I want it fresh in your minds. Tomorrow’ – he tittered to himself – ‘and tomorrow, and tomorrow we’ll start exploring super-objectives.
Righto.’ Malcolm stood from his chair. ‘I’ll see you all at 9 a.m. sharp. Adieu.’
People started getting up from the floor and gathering their things. I jumped to my feet and chased Malcolm from the room.
‘Malcolm?’ I said, catching up with him in the corridor, unsure of what I was doing or even what I planned to say. ‘I . . . I was just wondering if you’d made a mistake?’
Malcolm folded his arms across his crumpled tweed jacket and narrowed his eyes at me. His glasses slipped down his nose, a greasy smudge gathered in the half-moon lens. ‘A mistake?’ he said wearily.
‘With the casting, I mean. You said you wanted me to play Lady Macbeth. But maybe – I don’t know – maybe someone else in the group would play her better, like – I don’t know – Victoria or—’
‘A lot of thought goes into these casting decisions, you know. We don’t just make them up on the spot.’ He readjusted his glasses. ‘And besides, I consulted with the other tutors, and Frida insisted that you and you alone should take the role.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say to that. I bit the inside of my cheek. ‘But I don’t know if I’m a natural fit or not.’
‘A natural fit?’ Malcolm tilted his head to one side. ‘But my dear, are you not an actress?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘So act,’ he said, chuckling, his teeth shining plaque-yellow. He patted my shoulder. ‘Get some rest, Shannon.’ He turned on his heel and continued down the corridor. ‘You’ve got a busy term ahead of you.’
I watched him go, unsure of what had just transpired. Why did I say all that crap? What had I been thinking? Victoria didn’t need my help. She already had everything all worked out: an agent, money, connections. The role was mine. Frida had given it to me, not her.
The door opened. Jolly and Victoria emerged.
‘There you are,’ Jolly said. ‘You ran out pretty quickly.’ He handed me my rucksack. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, slinging it over my shoulder.
‘I guess congratulations are in order,’ Victoria said, nudging my shoulder with more force than I expected. ‘Well done, Shan.’
‘On what?’ I said, suddenly fascinated by a freckle on my wrist.
Victoria scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘OK, so it’s like that.’ She linked arms with Jolly and led him away. ‘I guess we’ll see you later, Big Shot,’ she trilled, waggling her fingers behind her.
I watched them disappear around the corner and down the stairs, their heads bowed, a coven of two already.
‘AND WHAT ARE YOU experiencing in this moment?’ Malcolm whispered.
Obi and I stood facing one another. My hands rested limply in his. I could feel Victoria staring at me from the other end of the room. I tried to appear nonchalant, to let my attention drift from Obi, but Malcolm caught me.
‘Ah-ah-ah, Shannon. Eyes on your husband, please.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Obi, please continue.’
‘I guess Macbeth is experiencing—’
‘First person, please.’
‘I guess I’m experiencing . . . shame,’ Obi responded. ‘I feel ashamed, like I’m losing control of the situation or something.’
‘Yes, yes, exactly,’ Malcolm said, bouncing from one foot to the other. ‘You’re trapped in a web of your own making.’
Obi caught my eye at Malcolm’s little dance. He smirked and gave my hands a light squeeze. I stifled the urge to smile back, conscious of Victoria’s supervisory gaze.
We’d been rehearsing the play for six weeks now.
Although our assessment was a little less than two weeks away, it didn’t feel like we’d made much progress.
Malcolm’s manner was slow. He tended to get stuck on the early scenes, looping them endlessly until he found whatever nugget of gold he’d been looking for. We’d barely touched my soliloquy.
‘Shannon?’
‘Hmm?’
Malcolm’s eyes glinted from behind his spectacles. ‘Daydreaming again, are we?’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Maybe we’ll move on from this. Obi, take a seat.
I’d like to work with Shannon alone for a minute.
’ He came closer. ‘Let’s interrogate your guilt, Lady M,’ he said, grinning and leading me towards the other end of the room.
‘So,’ he said, his voice no louder than a whisper, the smell of tuna on his breath, ‘how much are you manipulating the situation?’
I glanced across at my classmates, scribbling in their notebooks, actioning their texts, too far away to hear us. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I see her – I’m not sure I see myself as a manipulator.’
‘Interesting. And why is that?’
‘I don’t think I’m conscious of what I want.’
‘Continue.’
‘I, I think I’m moving towards these things – riches, titles, acclaim – because it’s innate, because it’s natural for me to do so.’
‘Like a moth climbing towards the light.’
‘Yes.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Carry on.’
‘I’m nothing without my husband. Probably, before I was married, my only value was in my dowry or my appearance. And then I found myself stuck with this guy, this unambitious nobody.’
‘Unambitious?’
‘Well, by my standards.’
‘Go on.’
‘And if my only way to grow, if my only way to expand myself, my horizons, is through him, I think it would only be natural for me to encourage him in whatever way I could.’
‘So you see yourself as your husband’s champion rather than his manipulator?’
‘Maybe. I’m not a cheerleader though. I’m still selfish.
And I still don’t like that word, manipulator.
I don’t think I can see some perfect end-goal where I get everything I want.
’ I looked down at my feet. ‘I think I have this thing inside me that will always want more, to become more, and if I can’t achieve that on my own, I suppose my only option is to find a way through someone else. ’
‘An interesting take. And what of your madness?’
‘I think it’s the madness of getting what you want,’ I said, looking up.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, who ever really gets exactly what they want?’
‘Not many people, I suppose.’
‘Yes, and I think that must do something to you. I mean, where can you go from there? Especially if your ambitions are tainted by blood.’
‘Where indeed.’
VICTORIA CORNERED ME AFTER rehearsals. ‘How’s it going then?’
‘How’s what going?’
Victoria put her hands on her hips. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know. I don’t care that you’re playing Lady Macbeth. They share roles around. We’ll all get the chance to play good parts at some point.’
Hettie walked past us and smiled. Victoria grinned back and lowered her voice. ‘Well, some of us will, at least.’ She returned her gaze to mine. ‘Look, I’m thinking of having a few people over on Saturday – nothing too big – just the good people.’ Again her eyes flicked towards Hettie.
‘At your dad’s place?’
She nodded. ‘Promise me you’ll come?’
I smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘Perfect.’ She looped her arm through mine. ‘I think we all need to let off some steam before performance week.’