Chapter 17: Watchful Friend

Thursday, 12 June 1969

“What a pit,” Wayne moaned as he looked around at what would pass for a theatre for the next four nights. The cast had moved to Ambleside on Thursday after a second and third performance in Keswick played to nine people—total. They’d had a day off, during which Wayne slept, and then a day-trip to Gretna Green and Hadrian’s Wall. That had inspired an entire first scene re-enactment on the remnants of the great wall. While Judith was friendly with Wayne, something had changed. She seemed almost afraid around him—guarded. Wayne had spent Wednesday hiking around the west side of the Derwentwater alone and was a little down.

“Hey kids!” yelled Carol in mock Judy Garland tones. “Let’s do a play. My grandpa has a barn we can use.”

“They call us babes in arms,” sang out a half-dozen others, “but we’ll be babes in armor.”

“My god,” Jim whispered as he came through the door to see the theater. The stage was a platform raised a foot above the wooden barn floor. The seats were straight wooden benches, some with backs. The stage area itself was hung in royal blue cotton panels with no front curtain at all. When he walked backstage he discovered a tangle of ropes and pipes that was almost impenetrable. Everything was connected, but nothing seemed to support anything else. When he fought his way back on stage through the panels, most of the cast were linked arm-in-arm across the stage singing “Babes in Arms” in their best Busby Berkeley imitation.

“They call us babes in arms, but we’ll be like an army!”

Jim whistled for attention and gradually they collapsed on the floor to listen.

“It’s a good thing you all still have a sense of humor,” he began. “I hate to tell you this, but the dressing room is worse yet.”

“Another stairwell?” groaned Gail.

“I heard a definite singular when he said dressing room,” joined Carol.

“This time it’s the Trust Superintendent’s office,” Jim answered. “You’ll have to make do with the one room. Work out shifts or whatever. The temperature will be about fifty at curtain time and it’s the only heated room in the building.”

“Terrific,” Chuck muttered. “Judith, d-did you really perform on these s-stages before you came to America?”

“This was one of the best,” she laughed. “Just look at all the lights.” Wayne looked up at the hanging lamps and the rat’s nest of cables that connected them.

“Does this beast have a control panel?” he asked.

“Found it!” called Beth from backstage. “Real dimmers.” She cross-faded several lights.

“Well, if the audience can stand to sit through it on these benches, at least we’ll have a show with a little atmosphere. Wayne, it’s all yours,” Jim said.

Wayne organized the crews and they loaded in the limited scenery. When the thrones were on stage it looked much better than it had in Keswick. They carefully taped out positions on the stage. Hamlet and Laertes rehearsed their swordplay under Judith’s watchful eye. Wayne worked on improvising a grave scene in a theater that had no levels to work with. Backstage, they cleared as much space as possible and tied all the ropes off in one direction.

“Clothesline,” Wayne muttered. On stage, he called Hamlet. “Chuck! Look, I’m sorry about the throne last night.”

“Only a little embarrassment out of a long night,” said Chuck. “Who would ever expect an empty throne to throw the knife back at me?”

“They didn’t have beadboard,” Wayne explained. “I told you that knife wasn’t meant to be stuck in wood. Apparently, you can’t get standard polystyrene here. I took the softest wood I could find.”

“I’ll just cut the bit. Who’ll miss it?”

“Judith will, for one,” Wayne said. “I’ve got an alternative, but you’ve got to be really careful.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“I’ll sharpen the blade. I’ve got a file and a whetstone. If I can stay out of sight for an hour, I can put enough of an edge on just the end that it should stick. Just don’t miss.”

“Never fear, it’s s-safe with me.”

“If anyone comes looking for me, point them someplace else, would you? I saw a wooden table out back of the theater and I’m going out there to freeze my ass off and sharpen a knife.”

Wayne sank into his work on the bench behind the barn theater in the National Trust. He was happy for the few minutes of work on a prop. When he worked on the throne there were half a dozen other people around, all wanting instructions on what to paint and where things should go. He’d managed to attach a back to the throne, but it wasn’t functioning the way anyone wanted. He’d tried a dozen different materials in the absence of bead board. Fabric and newspaper were both too dense for the knife to penetrate. He’d tried cotton batting, but it didn’t have enough substance to hold the knife in place. The only thing he could think of to do was to sharpen the knife and hope Chuck could stick it into the wooden backing.

He clamped the blade to the table and began filing the edge. It would only need to be sharpened an inch or so from the point. The blades were already shaped, but they were dull. This edge he could hone each night and keep it razor sharp. He put aside the file and began with a whetstone.

“Hi baby,” Judith said slipping up beside him. Wayne jumped.

“Oh! Hi. How’d you find me?”

“What a thing to ask. I asked Chuck if he’d seen you and he told me you were out here.”

“Great friend. He was supposed to tell anyone who asked that I’d gone somewhere else.”

“He might have been a little distracted. He was helping Carol wrap her boobs in elastic bandage. God, that must hurt.” Judith shuddered. Wayne chuckled.

“I think she just does it so she can get Chuck to massage them after the show.”

“They are getting along well, aren’t they? What are you doing?”

“It’s a secret, but I’m sharpening the end of Hamlet’s knife so it will stick in the wood.”

“I thought we were going to cut that bit.”

“I know how much you want it in.”

“You’d do that for me?” Judith’s voice brought Wayne’s attention up to her face. Tears glistened in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’d do anything for you. Why have you been, well ... sort of avoiding me? Did I do something to hurt you?” he asked.

“Fuck. You really don’t remember anything about Friday night, do you?”

“I remember going with you and getting high and waking up with all my clothes on at noon. Other than that, it’s all weird dreams. Did we make love?”

“Oh baby. I’m so sorry you missed it. It was so intense that it scared me a little. I’ve never felt anything like it,” she said.

“All right. You don’t have to tease me. I’m sorry I screwed up again. I’m caught up on sleep now, I think.”

“Wayne, honey. Look in my eyes. I’m serious. I’ve never been overwhelmed like that. You were...” Judith sobbed. “I’ve been frightened to be near you ever since. Every time I see you, I have to change my knickers. I don’t know what’s come over me.” Wayne pushed the blade out of the way and pulled Judith down on his lap at the wooden table. He kissed her soundly.

“Darling, I don’t want you to be frightened of me. I’m so sorry I scared you. It had to be the drugs. I’m not smoking again. The dreams were too weird.”

“Did you dream of making love to me?”

“Yes, but there was the other one, too.”

“Rebecca?”

“No. She looked familiar, but I would have recognized Rebecca, I’m sure. It was like I was in an old movie. Too ridiculous to believe. I don’t know. It was a dream.”

“Mari.”

“Wait! That was her name. How did you know? Did I call you Mari?”

“Maybe. It was okay. I felt like I was her, too. That’s what scared me. It was so powerful. You are so powerful.” They kissed again and Wayne slid a hand under Judith’s shirt to cup her breast as she ground herself on his lap.

“Thirty minutes!” Lena called from the back door of the theater.

“Thank you, thirty!” Wayne and Judith automatically responded. They broke down giggling.

“I love you, baby,” Wayne said. “I’d better get this blade in Hamlet’s sheath.”

“Later, I want you to get your blade in my sheath,” Judith whispered as they walked to the theatre.

The performance started well. As Bernardo, Wayne was spot on with the first line. There had been enough atmosphere to make the ghost scenes very spooky. After that scene, he changed costumes in the crowded dressing room where everyone huddled for warmth and prepared for his entrance as the player king. He met Rebecca in the wings and they made their entrance with the rest of the rag-tag bunch of players.

Wayne was wound up as he finished his monologue. There was even a good spattering of applause as “The instant burst of clamor that she made would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven and passion in the gods.” It was shaping up to be a great performance. The players were given their instructions by Hamlet and exited. Judith met them as they came off stage.

“Hey, you were really turned on out there tonight,” she whispered.

“I’ll show you turned on. I’ve got a woody in my tights.”

“So that’s what Dr. Allen was staring at all through the scene,” Judith giggled.

“Shh,” he whispered glancing back at Rebecca.

“If you want me quiet, you’ll have to shut me up.” With that, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips into his. He felt her hips grind against his own. In a moment, the joked-about woody was present and accounted for between the two lovers.

“Bloody, bawdy villain,” Chuck expounded from the stage.

Rebecca smiled at the couple as they pushed each other farther off stage. That settled it. She was not going to lead Wayne on when her coven sister had such a firm hold on him. Not that she would get involved with Wayne anyway, but just watching them she had to admit she was getting a little mushy between the legs.

She was almost too late to act when she saw Hamlet’s blade come flashing through the cloth panel and lodge in the cluster of ropes behind the set. There was a split-second pause as the rope severed completely and the batten fell from above the stage with its weight of unused lights. She dove after Wayne and Judith and nailed them to the wall feeling, even as she did, the scrape of the pipe as it was deflected off her shoulders and bounced down her back. She crumpled to the floor. The last she heard was Hamlet’s insane laughter—”This is most brave!”—as he struggled on stage to remember his next line.

Wayne heaved the batten off Rebecca’s back and Judith pulled her from beneath. He swept her up and made it through the stage door a step behind Judith holding it open. Protect The Huntress! echoed in his head. Other than the crash of the pipe on the floor, none of the rest of the troupe realized anything was amiss. Behind him, Wayne caught a glimpse of Beth looking from the other side of the stage behind the drapery panels to see what had happened. The door swung shut behind them. Wayne carefully laid Rebecca down on the table where he’d worked on the culprit knife. They coaxed her back to consciousness. Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears as she opened them.

“Ahh,” she whimpered. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine, thanks to you,” Wayne said. “God! Rebecca, you could have been killed. I...”

“Is anyone hurt back here?” a voice cut Wayne off. Rounding the corner of the theatre was a short stocky man. “I’m a physician,” he said approaching the three people.

“Dr. McBride!” Judith exclaimed.

“Judith Harmon, is it?” he answered. “Fancy meeting you here. I saw your name in the program. I’ll bet that knife work was your doing.” He bent over Rebecca and looked into her eyes. “Who have we here?”

“That’s Dr. Allen,” Wayne said. “How did you know she was hurt?”