The Town in Bloom by Dodie Smith Page B

for the evenings, though it’ll mean a long day. Of course you must have extra money. I’ll arrange for it.’
    I said that would be marvellous and I didn’t mind how long I worked. Then she settled down to give me advice.
    I gathered it was particularly important to hear what Mr Crossway said the first time he said it. ‘He dislikes being asked to repeat anything but dislikes it even worse if one gets the notes wrong. Lean towards him the minute he starts to speak. If he’s in a note-giving mood, use shorthand – and memory. Then write the whole note out in long-hand, very clearly, when you get the chance. Use two pads, one for your jottings, and one for the written-out note, which he’ll take with him when he talks to the cast after the rehearsal. He may want you with him then, to remind him what he meant by the note. Of course you may not know, but I usually do. If you concentrate on every line of the play you can generally follow what he means, and remember.’
    ‘How can I concentrate on the play and write out my notes?’
    ‘Sometimes there are breaks, when he discusses things with the cast or talks to Brice Marton, or something. And while I think of it, keep your notes short. He hates it if you sit beside him scribbling madly. And use your torch as little as possible; I mustn’t forget to give you one. Oh, you’ll just have to feel your way into the job.’
    ‘I’m beginning to doubt if I can do it. No, I’m not. I shall manage.’
    ‘For one startled second I thought you were losing your supreme self-confidence. We’d better have lunch now and I don’t want to leave the office, so cut out and get us sandwiches.’
    A little before two-thirty I went down to the stalls carrying two large note-pads, a tiny torch, and a supply of fiercely sharp pencils. Mr Crossway was not yet back from lunch but I could tell where he would be sitting by a rack, fixed to the back of a stall, with a script on it. I settled myself near this and watched the company assemble on the stage. I felt a pang when the understudies came through the pass door and sat at the back of the stalls. Taking notes might be interesting but it wasn’t being an actress.
    Then Mr Crossway came in, sat beside me and said, ‘Well, are you pleased?’ I said, ‘Terribly.’ He said, ‘Good,’ turned towards the stage, and the rehearsal began.
    As he was still at a period when he interrupted the cast to say what he wanted, I guessed that the few notes he gave were just practice for me. After about twenty minutes he had to go on stage to play his own part. He told me to come with him and sit in the wings. When I got there I saw Brice Marton at a table in the prompt corner, with a script and various notepads in front of him. He gave me a civil but unsmiling ‘hello’ and got me a chair. It was the first time we had met since the night when he pushed me out of the stage door.
    Every now and then Mr Crossway came over and gave me a note – as they were all unimportant I suspected he was merely establishing me in the eyes of the company. Iwasn’t introduced to anyone but several people smiled at me pleasantly. When the rehearsal ended I handed my notes to Mr Crossway, who said they were beautifully legible, and I could now rejoin Miss Lester and assure her I had managed very nicely. ‘I believe she calls you Mouse, doesn’t she? Well, you may tell her you’ve lived up to the name and been delightfully quiet and unobtrusive. I’m so thankful you’re a silent breather. She once wished a girl on me who breathed like a steam engine.’
    When I reported this to Miss Lester she said she was relieved – ‘Oh, not about the breathing but as regards the unobtrusiveness. I forgot to warn you not to offer advice. Most girls would be too overawed to need such a warning, but you’re not exactly backward in coming forward.’
    I said I’d try to restrain myself.
    ‘Yes, do. But it’s a queer thing, though Mr Crossway loathes anyone to volunteer