Able to observe everything at close hand, Jude was again struck by Storm Lavelle’s talent. She really was making something of Judith Anderson. Since Jude didn’t have her own transport, Storm ferried her to and from rehearsals in her Smart car – Fethering was virtually on the route from Hove. And in the course of those journeys the two women talked a lot – well, to be more accurate, Storm talked and Jude listened a lot. All her friend talked about was the play and how she was approaching the part of Judith Anderson. So far, she seemed too preoccupied with her acting to waste any energy throwing herself at Ritchie Good. Which was a considerable relief.
But Jude did tend to arrive at rehearsals in a state of mental exhaustion from all the listening she’d had to do.
Jude’s observations of Hester Winstone at rehearsals were less encouraging. The prompter still seemed very nervous and unhappy. Both Ritchie and Neville Prideaux virtually ignored her and, having met Mike, Jude didn’t reckon Hester was getting much support at home either. She tried to be friendly, but her suggestions of going for a drink together at the Cricketers after rehearsals were met with polite refusals. Hester Winstone was continuing to do her job as prompter, but apparently no longer wished to be involved in the social side of SADOS.
And then of course Jude herself had to get back to the idea of acting. The stuff she had done in the past had arisen directly out of her work as a model. There’s an enduring idea amongst agents and producers that someone beautiful enough to be photographed professionally must also be able to act. Though it can work in the cinema where short takes and clever editing can disguise complete lack of talent, the inadequacy of models is more likely to be exposed by a full evening on the stage of a theatre.
But Jude had actually been quite good, she had discovered a genuine aptitude for acting, and she was surprised at how much she enjoyed coming back to it and playing Mrs Dudgeon. Also, in her early twenties she had been cast only for her beauty – in other words in straight roles. She had suspected back then that the actors in character parts were having more fun and, as Mrs Dudgeon, she found that to be true. There was a great freedom to be derived from playing a crotchety old curmudgeon, so different from her own personality.
Jude was unsurprised that Ritchie Good made no further attempt to come on to her, and indeed behaved as if their meeting in the Crown and Anchor had never happened. Any attraction she might have felt towards him quickly dissipated in the course of rehearsals. Seeing what a control freak he was in his discussions with Davina Vere Smith – they had long since ceased to be arguments – Jude was turned off by his egotism.
But she remained intrigued by him. There was something about his personality that didn’t ring true, something that had struck her in the Crown and Anchor and had only been reinforced by further acquaintance. His habit of coming on to women was clearly a knee-jerk reaction, but Jude wondered how far he wanted any kind of relationship to develop. Had she proved more amenable when they met in the pub, seemed keener on spending time with him, would they have ended up under her duvet in Woodside Cottage that evening? She somehow doubted it.
Neville Prideaux, Jude could see as she watched him at rehearsals, was a more subtle operator. Jude kept remembering that it was Ritchie who’d chatted up Hester Winstone, but it was Neville who had actually gone to bed with her. He didn’t have Ritchie’s obvious attractiveness, but maybe he was the more ruthless seducer.
Since his character of General Burgoyne only appeared in Act Three of The Devil’s Disciple, Neville was not at as many rehearsals as most of the company. As an actor, Jude found him impressive technically, though she wasn’t moved by him. But perhaps that was the right way to play General Burgoyne. The right way to play Shaw, anyway. His characters were all, in the view of many playgoers, more like mouthpieces for opinions than people one could engage with on an emotional level.
The impression Neville Prideaux gave out of orderliness and detachment was strengthened by the time Jude spent with him during the inevitable post-rehearsal sessions in the Cricketers. She kept being reminded of Ritchie Good’s rather bitchy comments about how, during his days as a schoolmaster, he’d run the drama department like his own ‘private fiefdom’. Neville was probably as much of a control freak as Ritchie, but the characteristic manifested itself in different ways. He never took issue with Davina at rehearsals, meekly taking her notes and doing what she told him, but he still contrived to play General Burgoyne exactly the way in which he wanted to play the character.
One evening in the Cricketers Jude was with Neville Prideaux when the subject of Elizaveta Dalrymple’s defection came up. ‘Have you known her long?’ asked Jude. ‘Were you with SADOS in the early days?’
‘Oh, good heavens, no. I only joined up after I retired … what, six years ago.’
‘And I gather you have some kind of role as the society’s dramaturge?’
‘It’s nothing as formal as that. Nothing official. It’s just that there aren’t perhaps that many people round SADOS who know a great deal about drama, and having spent my entire career researching and exploring the subject, I do feel I have something to contribute.’
‘Well, it’s nice to have a hobby in retirement.’
Jude’s words had been no more than a bland conversation-filler, but Neville Prideaux reacted to them with some vehemence. ‘I hardly have time for hobbies,’ he retorted. ‘I’m busier since I’ve been retired than I ever was as a teacher.’
‘Oh?’
‘I run workshops and drama classes. And then of course there’s my own writing.’
He spoke of this with some awe, which made Jude feel perhaps she ought to know about something he’d written. Better to confess ignorance, though. ‘Sorry, I don’t know about your writing … except Ritchie said you’d written some lyrics for the SADOS’ panto. Is that the kind of stuff you do?’
‘Oh, good heavens, no. That’s just recreational stuff. No, basically I’m a playwright.’
‘Ah. Have you written lots of plays?’
‘Not as many as I would have wished. There was no time when I was teaching, so I’ve only really been able to concentrate on it in the last six years.’
‘With any success?’
‘Oh, I’ve had some very positive responses,’ Neville Prideaux replied. Jude didn’t think she was being too cynical to read this answer to her question as a ‘No’.
‘And,’ he went on, ‘the SADOS’ Play Selection Committee are very keen to do one of my plays next season, but I’m not convinced that that’s a very good idea.’
‘Oh? Why not?’
‘Well, I just feel a production down here might be too low-key. I think the play would probably benefit from exposure in a larger arena.’
Like the West End? thought Jude. But she didn’t ask the question. She was already getting a pretty clear view of the dimensions of Neville Prideaux’s ego.
‘And what’s the play about?’ she asked.
‘Oh, there are a lot of themes,’ he said rather grandly. ‘It’s set in a school – or apparently set in a school.’ Well, that’s the only setting you know, thought Jude. ‘But obviously the school has considerable symbolic resonance.’
‘Obviously,’ she echoed, prompting Neville to look at her rather sharply, assessing whether she might be sending him up. Jude’s face maintained an expression of total innocence which had proved very useful to her over the years.
‘Anyway,’ said Neville, ‘it’s very difficult to talk about one’s work – particularly in the drama. A play can only be fully realized and judged when it is acted out in front of an audience.’