Which prompted her next question. ‘Do you mean concentrate on it exclusively? Make it your profession?’
‘I wouldn’t rule that out,’ replied Storm, with a new confidence in her voice. ‘I’m certainly going to take it more seriously, concentrate on getting better as an actor.’ Jude was amused that the politically correct fashion of not using the word ‘actress’ had permeated the amateur section of the business.
‘My quality is beginning to be recognized,’ Storm went on. ‘I’m being given better parts. I’ve just got a really good one with SADOS.’
She pronounced the acronym ‘Say-doss’, but Jude had to confess that the word meant nothing to her.
‘SADOS,’ said Storm, ‘is the “Smalting Amateur Dramatic and Operatic Society”.’
‘Ah.’
‘They’ve just held auditions for The Devil’s Disciple and I’ve got the part of Judith Anderson.’
Jude had once again to admit ignorance. ‘I’ve heard the title vaguely somewhere, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about it.’
Storm had clearly done her homework. ‘It’s one of George Bernard Shaw’s earliest plays. Set during the American War of Independence. And it’s about this bad American guy called Dick Dudgeon who’s going to be hanged by the British because he’s been mistaken for the good American pastor called Anthony Anderson …’
‘Sounds a bit like A Tale of Two Cities.’
‘I don’t know that play, I’m afraid. But, anyway, Judith is Anthony Anderson’s wife and she’s really conflicted, because she hates Dick Dudgeon, but at the same time she’s very drawn to him.’ It didn’t sound as if this summary was Storm’s own, more as if she were quoting someone. ‘And the play’s also an attack on puritanism, and reiterates the common theme in Shaw of how people should stand up against convention if they think that convention’s wrong. At least,’ she concluded, ‘that’s what Neville thinks.’
‘Who’s Neville?’
‘Neville Prideaux. He’s playing General Burgoyne in The Devil’s Disciple. He’s actually quite important in SADOS. Particularly on the Play Selection Committee. He says Shaw’s out of fashion, but he doesn’t deserve to be. And he thinks that SADOS ought to do more challenging work, not just their usual safe diet of light comedies, Agatha Christies and episodes from television series.’
‘Sorry? What do you mean – “episodes from television series”?’
‘Oh, it’s quite a popular thing now with amdrams. An evening of three episodes of something like Fawlty Towers or Dad’s Army.’
‘Yowch!’ said Jude, as the ghastly image of local thespians doing their impressions of John Cleese and Arthur Lowe encroached on her imagination.
‘Well, Neville says doing them is retrogressive.’
‘I would agree with Neville on that.’
‘But they are very popular with audiences.’
‘Presumably because said audiences know every word of the script off by heart.’
‘I think that could be part of it, yes. Anyway, Neville says that SADOS should make a stand against putting on that sort of stuff. He even thought last year’s production of Calendar Girls was too lightweight. And that’s a play about cancer.’
No, it’s not, thought Jude. It’s a play about women taking their tops off. She was constantly amazed by the British prurient attitude to nudity, which explained the disproportionate success of shows like Calendar Girls. It seemed that members of every amateur dramatic society in the country couldn’t wait to get their wizened tits out.
But Storm was still continuing her encomium of Neville Prideaux. ‘He says there’s a wonderful archive of great plays which deserve revival much more than any trivial TV sitcom.’
The devoutness with which Storm was quoting the great Neville Prideaux made Jude wonder if, with Paul out of the way, he was about to be the next recipient of her all-embracing adoration.
She reached for a bottle on her mantelpiece. ‘Just finish off the massage with some lavender essential oil. You happy with that?’
‘Great,’ said Storm, as Jude, with oil rubbed on to her hands, started kneading her friend’s shoulders.
‘And it’s because of Neville’s views that you’re doing The Devil’s Disciple – is that right?’
‘Exactly. Neville says it would do the people of Smalting good to have their brains engaged by something they see in the theatre.’
‘I’m sure it would.’
‘Anyway, as I say, I’m delighted to have got the part of Judith Anderson. Though I say it myself, I knew I was the best person in the Society to play it, but I was still very nervous about the audition.’
‘Why was that?’
Storm gave a conspiratorial wink. ‘Oh, wheels within wheels. There’s a lot of politics in SADOS. You see, there’s this kind of diva called Elizaveta Dalrymple, who’s the widow of Freddie Dalrymple, who’s the guy who started the Society, and she’s very much its social hub. Holds these little parties on Saturdays that she calls her “drinkies things” and if you’re invited to one of those you really know you’ve arrived in SADOS. Anyway, Elizaveta is kind of used to getting all the major parts in the shows – even ones that she’s far too old for. And she’s very in with Davina Vere Smith, who’s actually directing The Devil’s Disciple, and with quite a lot of the older members. So I thought there was a real danger that Judith Anderson, who’s meant to be – what, thirty? – well, that the part would go to Elizaveta Dalrymple, who’s got to be seventy – and that’s being generous.’
‘But instead you triumphed?’
‘Yes. Well, as I said, I was definitely the best person for the part.’ In spite of the vagaries and vulnerabilities in other areas of her life, Storm Lavelle was very assured about her acting skills. And indeed it was when witnessing one of her performances that Jude had seen her friend at her most confident. Maybe getting into the professional theatre would be the resolution of Storm’s personality problems. Not of course that getting into the professional theatre was an easy thing to be achieved by a woman in her forties.
‘And have you actually started rehearsals for the play yet?’
‘Read-through on Sunday. Open on the twelfth of May.’
‘Wow! Three months’ rehearsal. A lot of professional theatres would kill for that amount of time.’
‘Maybe, but you forget that we aren’t doing it full-time. Most of the cast have day jobs.’
‘Yes, of course. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘So we rehearse Tuesday and Thursday evenings and Sunday afternoons.’
‘And how many performances do you do?’
‘Just the four. The twelfth of May’s a Wednesday, and we go through to the Saturday. SADOS used to open on Tuesdays and throw in a Saturday matinee as well, but they can’t get the audiences for that many performances now.’
‘Ah.’ Jude removed her hands from Storm’s body and rubbed the oil off them with a towel. ‘That’s you done,’ she said. ‘Unknotted a few of the knots, I hope?’
‘Great, as ever. Thank you, Jude.’
‘My pleasure. I’m sure I’ll soon be asking you to do the same for me. Anyway, good luck with the read-through on Sunday.’