in February, 1989, and Eliza was about to turn five. She had a mulish look on her face, one that Richard recognised only too well.
“No, I won’t,” she said emphatically.
“Why not?” asked Richard. “You’re always acting. I’ve seen you as a pirate, a princess, a vampire. I think you’d be good at it. Why don’t we get you some lessons, and you can learn to do it properly as part of your schoolwork.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, uncertainly, not wanting to disappoint her father. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about it. Maybe she had already overdosed on theatre, having spent days and evenings sitting with the other theatre orphans, wrapped in blankets against the cold, while their parents rehearsed. Whatever her motivation, she remained adamant that she would not be following in his footsteps and treading any kind of boards. If she had been a little older, even by a couple of years, she may have told him what she already felt, but didn’t yet have the words for: I want to be normal. I want to be myself.
So he yielded with bad grace, and therefore, because some kind of performance skills were mandatory for a MacLean, he insisted that she learn no fewer than two musical instruments and undergo vocal training. Regular practice, if Eliza was recalcitrant, was enforced on pain of being shouted at, vis-à-vis, in a terrifyingly loud and resonant voice designed to reach the back stalls. Richard excused this example of harsh parenting on the grounds that projecting his voice was instinctive because of his calling2 and averred he had no intention of terrifying small children.
2 “Acting is the art of speaking in a loud clear voice and the avoidance of bumping into the furniture.” – Alfred Lunt.
She had long since got over her tendency, when shouted at, to curl up in a ball in the nearest corner. At four or five she started standing her ground and shouting back at him. From seven on she just folded her hands and waited for him to finish. One could almost believe she had decided not to reinforce bad behaviour with attention. Much later, she ignored him or shouted back as the occasion demanded, and neither of them thought very much of the altercations.
Eliza had already demanded to learn the violin at the age of four. She chose the tin whistle as her second instrument, which was, as he informed her, pushing it. Fortunately she sang beautifully, and little work was required aside from turning down the volume knob on the high notes to preserve the glassware and any passing eardrums.
Richard appeared to have a considerable private income, over and above what he earned in his profession. He didn’t come from old family and old money, but nonetheless he grew up with the belief that he didn’t have to impress anybody, and so felt free to live in whatever manner he chose. His house had been in the family for generations, one of many such pieces of real estate, and he didn’t bother much with the décor or home maintenance, unless something was leaking or about to explode. Being a celebrity in theatrical circles ensured that people thought he was merely charmingly eccentric.
So at least Eliza didn’t have to raise herself in poverty. Someone came in to clean the house, do the washing, and cook five meals a week. A modicum of domestic competence was expected of Eliza, and she was tested in these skills from time to time, although she was probably far too young to be put in charge of a roasting pan and a gas oven. Baking was more fun than cleaning the bathroom, or peeling veg, she decided, and playing culinary jokes on her father, like making Chelsea buns for dinner, appealed to her sense of humour.
Richard required that school work must be completed with high grades, but otherwise Eliza’s time, what remained of it, was her own.
Although this is not Kathy’s story, it is predictable that she eventually pursued an acting and dancing career. No sibling rivalry was needed here as, well into her twenties, Eliza regularly fell over nothing on non-slip floors, using this deficit to further substantiate her claim that acting was an unsuitable career for people like her.3 Interestingly, she had no trouble climbing trees or keeping her balance on a roof.
3 See note 2 above on bumping into furniture.
Because this is Eliza’s story, it is also Richard’s, and lest it be thought that he was an uncaring father, let us be clear now that nothing could be further from the truth. He absolutely adored Eliza, and let her know it frequently, but when, shortly after his thirty-first birthday, he assumed full care of her, he was still young, in the way some men tend to be when they have been surrounded by admiring women all their lives. Unless hit on the head with some evidence of his parental neglect, he assumed everything was going well.
* * *
Billy You wouldn’t do old Hook in now, would you, lad? I’ll go away forever. I’ll do anything you say.
Eliza Well, all right, if you say you’re a codfish.
Billy I’m a codfish.
Eliza Louder!
Billy (screaming) I’m a codfish!
Eliza Hook is a codfish! Hook is a codfish!
Billy tries to stab Eliza with his school ruler, but she dodges and he falls into the sea (a.k.a. the grass). Eliza changes roles and becomes the crocodile. She snaps at his heels as he swims away frantically.
Eliza Tick tock tick tock tick tock …
Billy Nooooooooo!
* * *
Billy did not appear to regard Eliza as a nuisance, in fact he apparently sought out her company at times, which puzzled both Richard and Billy’s parents. She came into his life at an awkward and painful age, when he did not have many friends to whom he could relate, and none who understood his obsessive drive to act. Perhaps he saw in Eliza a kindred spirit, hopping the fence after school and playing Captain Hook to her Peter Pan. She in turn would help him with his lines in the school play by reading the other parts, which also improved her reading skills. Eliza was always glad to see him and never told him lies, even if the truth hurt, thus she was his earliest and most honest critic as well as his most admiring fan.
When the student is ready, the teacher appears. At about the time Eliza and Billy first exchanged Arrrs, Richard, who loved to teach acting almost as much as the acting itself, was involved in Saturday drama classes for young people. Billy eventually joined the class on Richard’s suggestion. He had noticed a certain raw talent in Billy, perhaps seeing himself at a similar age, and decided to encourage him. At that stage, Richard became the drawcard for Billy: a male role model who didn’t expect him to go into the family business or ridicule him for his theatrical penchant.
Billy took correction and impatience from Richard which would have had him spitting tacks at his father and slamming out of the house. He tried it once, but Richard merely said, to his departing, huffy back, “Do you want to act or not?”
Billy stopped on his way to the door. After a pause, he turned, and said, “Yes”, which was accompanied by a few remaining un-spat tacks.
“Then you will need to take your critiques with your accolades,” said Richard. “Don’t ever do that again!” he added, a touch of irritation in his voice. Billy was hot tempered, but he could always change direction if the map suggested he was going to drive into a gully.
