‘THE NATURE OF THE ACTING PROFESSION…’

The telephone at Marcus’s elbow began to ring and he picked it up.

‘What a pleasant surprise, we were just talking about you, and yes he’s here.’ He handed the telephone to Ian. ‘It’s Rachel.’

Surprised that she would telephone him during her busy working day, Ian assumed that a serious problem had arisen.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing, quite the opposite.’ She sounded excited. ‘You know that I understudy Jill Bennett, well tonight’s my big night. She’s gone down with a throat infection, I’m to be the nympho for a night or more!’

‘That’s good news, really promising!’

‘Can you come? They’ve got an un-booked box, which I can have free, if I want.’

‘Love to.’

‘That’s great. Curtain up is 7.30pm and you’ll get a chance to meet my father, he’s already on his way.’ She paused. ‘That still leaves two free tickets, do you think Susan and Marcus would like to come?’

I’m not sure, let me hand you over.’ He passed the telephone back to Marcus who listened.

‘We would love to, and it would be a good opportunity to see your father after all these years.’ He replaced the telephone back in the rest. ‘She’ll tell her father to meet us in the stalls bar at 7 pm. I’ll book a table at Raphael for a meal after the show. I think she’s growing very fond of you Ian. What about you? How do you feel about her?’

Ian was silent, conscious of a queasy feeling in his stomach. It was the first time he had been asked, or asked himself the question. He knew that she was only in Bath for a period of weeks and that she was ambitious about an acting career. The thought of losing Rachel was frightening and not something he wanted to think about.

   ‘Due to illness, Miss Bennett’s part will be played by Miss Rachel Jacobs.’

Ian removed the last-minute insert from the programme and inserted the slip of white paper into his breast pocket. He wanted to tell everyone, this is my Rachel, but had arrived so early he had the bar to himself. Pride turned to nervousness as he read the programme again, and sipped the glass of wine — pace yourself, take it slowly, best not to drink too much in front of her father. Would she remember her lines, how would it go, her first time centre stage? All the walk-on extra one-line appearances of the past were nothing by comparison and he wondered if she could even act.

An extract from chapter fifty-four of – ‘Go Swift and Far – a Tale of Bath’ The first book of The Westcott Chronicles of Bath