shrugged. ‘Comic irony? No one would ever mistake you for a girl, even in a dress. Ergo, visual humour.’
Nate didn’t look convinced.
‘And anyway, men have often played female roles in the theatre,’ Paul said, heading up the hill towards the hall, looking dapper in his blue Ben Sherman suit, complete with narrow tie and pointed shoes. ‘Where do you think the word “drag” comes from?’
Nate looked blank.
Paul gave him a questioning look. ‘It stands for “dressed as girl”. It began during Victorian times to denote a male actor playing the part of a female for comic effect.’
Nate shrugged. ‘I never knew that.’
Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘Unsurprisingly, I did.’
Unlike his mates, Barney didn’t feel as though he had a specific style. He favoured jeans and T-shirts, wore leather flip-flops in the summer, and owned a few Fat Face shirts. Not exactly the height of fashion. He’d often been told he was a dead ringer for Elvis Presley, but he couldn’t see it himself. It was probably his Hawaiian heritage on his mother’s side. Whatever the reason, he imagined the three of them made an unusual sight when they went out together, especially when Dusty joined in the fun.
‘At least I get to play Demetrius as well as Thisbe,’ Nate said, as they reached Bridge Street Hall. ‘But I’m still not happy about playing a girl.’
Paul patted his shoulder. ‘That’s life, I’m afraid. Others don’t always see us the way we see ourselves.’
Barney picked up on the sombre note in Paul’s voice. ‘I thought you were pleased to be offered the part of Helena?’
Paul smiled. ‘I’m delighted, dear boy.’ But his response lacked conviction.
Barney was prevented from questioning him further by the noise coming from the hall. As they pushed through the wooden doors, they were greeted by the distinctive odour of stale sweat and smelly feet, a constant no matter how thoroughly the place was cleaned.
Most of the village got involved in the productions, even if it was just selling programmes or helping backstage, but getting enough people to audition was always the tricky part, hence the multiple roles. The summer production was performed at the Corineus Theatre, a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre cut into the Cornish coastline. With its stone walls and clifftop views, and a backdrop of crashing waves and swirling winds, it was a stunning location. Performing there was magical.
Barney didn’t need to be told that Lauren Saunders had also arrived at the hall. He could tell from Nate’s body language: his eyes homed in on her like an FBI tracking device. There was nothing subtle about the way Nate gazed longingly at her. And there was no way Lauren was as oblivious to his interest as she made out. Whether she felt the same remained a mystery. Sometimes Barney sensed she did, other times not so much.
Tonight, she was wearing a grey tunic dress over leggings, her long hair tied loosely at the base of her neck. ‘Freddie! Stop pulling Florence’s hair!’ she yelled, her expression softening as her twin eight-year-olds ran across the hall, their startling red hair and freckles a contrast to their mother’s pale skin and dark hair. Both kids were eagerly talking and laughing. They each drew in a big breath, then simultaneously told their mum they’d been cast as fairies in the play.
Unlike Nate, Freddie seemed delighted to be wearing a dress. ‘It’ll have a skirt made of petals and everything,’ he gushed.
Paul ruffled his hair. ‘Good for you, mate.’
They were joined by Lauren’s dad, who was followed into the hall by his two lady admirers, Sylvia Johns and Glenda Graham. No one could work out whether Tony Saunders was genuinely clueless that both women were into him, or whether he was just stringing them along, enjoying the attention. Either way, it was amusing to watch.
Barney nodded a greeting. ‘I’m assuming you got cast in the show, Tony?’
Tony grinned. ‘I’m playing Bottom.’ His flash of white teeth evoked an audible sigh from both women. At sixty-two, the man would shame most men half his age. His reddish-blond hair hadn’t greyed; his stomach hadn’t inflated, and his tanned skin hadn’t suffered from hours spent at sea. ‘Including two other parts. That’s a lot of lines for someone my age. You youngsters have it easy.’
Nate didn’t look like he agreed.
Despite being a decent actor, Nate wasn’t a confident reader, so often tripped up over the text. Unfortunately, the show’s director didn’t possess the art of tact, and if someone messed up, he wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate them in front of the whole room – as Nate had discovered at the audition, when he’d mispronounced his line, ‘Tarry, rash won ton!’ causing the director to bellow, ‘Wanton, not won ton! You are not ordering Chinese food, Mr Jones!’
Jonathan Myers was a typical theatrical type, who wore glasses on a chain around his neck and sported a terrible comb-over. Appearing at the front of the stage, he asked everyone to take a seat. ‘As you all know, my name is Jonathan Myers. I’m a professional, RADA-trained actor’ – as he liked to remind everyone on a regular basis – ‘and the director of this year’s summer extravaganza, William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I think you will agree, this will be the Isolde Players’ most adventurous production to date.’ He started clapping, encouraging everyone to join in, always eager to receive a round of applause. ‘We shall begin this evening with an improvisation, something to warm up our bodies and focus the mind. The single most important attribute an actor should possess is …?’ He cupped his ear, encouraging a response.
The group mumbled, ‘Focus’, only to be met with a shaking of Jonathan’s head and an exasperated, ‘Louder!’ to which everyone dutifully yelled, ‘FOCUS!’ – except Nate, who yelled, ‘Louder!’ and then cringed when everyone laughed.
Jonathan waited for calm. ‘Thank you. Now, I would like you all to pair up and prepare a short mime entitled “A Fool in the Forest”.’ Before he’d even added, ‘You have ten minutes’, Kayleigh Wilson had sprinted the length of the hall and ‘bagsied’ Barney as her partner, ever hopeful that their brief spell dating would turn into something more meaningful. But there was no spark – not on his side at any rate. She was a nice enough girl, but he wasn’t interested in getting serious with her. Trouble was, she had other ideas.
Nate didn’t fare much better. He lost out on partnering Lauren to seasoned actor Daniel Austin.
A despondent Nate was stuck with Paul, who, never one to take offence, said, ‘It’s just as well we’re mates,’ and slung an arm around his shoulder. ‘Your enthusiasm for working with me is quite touching.’
Ignoring Paul’s sarcasm, Nate shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets, staring daggers at Daniel. ‘He does it to wind me up.’
Paul sighed. ‘Then don’t let him see it affects you, or he’ll keep doing it.’
In contrast, Kayleigh was beaming like she’d won an Oscar, sparkling like the diamanté lettering adorning the backside of her pink velour tracksuit. Kayleigh had big eyes and waist-length brown hair, making her an official ‘babe’, as Nate would say. But she wasn’t Barney’s type. Too girly, too annoyingly bouncy, and far too young aged just twenty. He was only twenty-seven himself, but five years studying for a medical degree, followed by two years completing his foundation
