  “I was awful! I just know I was awful!” Peggy moaned. “I never felt so stiff and scared in my life! I think I must have walked like a mechanical doll! Oh, Greta!” “You were fine,” Greta said. “I mean it. You know I’m too good a friend to lie to you. You were as natural as....” “And I muffed two lines!” Peggy went on, as if she hadn’t even heard Greta. “What lines?” “Didn’t you notice? Two of my lines came out all wrong, and if Alan and Paula hadn’t picked them up and gone on as if nothing had happened, I don’t know what I would have done!” “I never noticed,” Greta said. “And I guess that means the audience didn’t either. And they seemed to like it. That was one of the best first-act curtain receptions I ever heard. If they like the rest of the play as well, we’ve got a hit on our—” “Don’t say it!” Peggy said. “It’s bad luck! Oh dear ... I don’t know how I’ll ever get through it!” “You’ll get through it beautifully,” Greta said, “the same way you got through the first act.” Reassured by Greta’s calm, businesslike manner, Peggy pulled herself together with an almost visible effort. “How much longer before we go on?” she asked. “Amy said she’d come back between acts with a report from out front. She should be here by now.” “She is here,” Amy said from the doorway. “And the report from out front is great. You were both wonderful, and the play is perfect, and everybody in the whole cast is grand!” “Amy, I’m afraid that as a reporter, you’re a good friend,” Greta said. “I’m glad you think it’s so good, but what I want to know is how is the audience reacting? What’s the intermission talk like?” “I’ve just come back from the lounge,” Amy said, “and I couldn’t ask for better talk! Everybody is intrigued with the play, and they all seem to think the production is a sure hit. And they’re wild about Paula! I’ve never heard such talk in my life! Even the man from the Times and the man from the Post were smiling and talking about Paula!” “I knew that Paula would make a hit,” Peggy said warmly. “Isn’t she good?” “She couldn’t be better,” Amy agreed. “I just hope that she comes out of this between-the-acts trance of hers when the play is over.” “She’s still doing that?” Peggy asked, concerned. “Good!” Greta said. “As long as she keeps it up, I have a feeling that the play will go. Don’t worry about it. It’s just an especially strong case of character identification. She’ll be herself again when she reads the reviews in the morning.” The lights flickered on and off. “Oh-oh!” Amy said. “I’d better get back out front. See you between the acts again!” With a wave of her hand she was gone. “Let’s go, Greta,” Peggy said. “We’re on.” Peggy felt calmer, somehow, in Act Two than she had before. The first feelings of stage fright had left her, and she fell into her lines with a practiced ease. No longer worrying about the words or about the stage directions, both of which had been so drilled into her as to become second nature, she became aware of the audience in a new and pleasant way. The faceless crowd out front was suddenly transformed for her into a large group of friendly people. They were not hostile. They were warm and eager to be pleased, interested in the play and the players. For the first time, she felt a communication between herself and them, and as she felt it, she realized that she was acting better, playing the part as she had never done in rehearsals. Her confidence grew, and with it, her pleasure in her craft. Peggy was learning how it really feels to be an actress. The second act went smoothly and well. The cast was sharp and alert; no cues were missed; no lines were muffed. The timing was sharp and professional, and remained so as the pace increased to build to the shattering second-act curtain. Watching it from the wings, Peggy was entranced with Paula and all the supporting cast. If she had thought that this scene was already worked to perfection in rehearsals, she had been mistaken. Now, in the presence of the audience, a new life and vigor suffused Paula, and a new note of urgency was felt. At the climax of the scene, when Paula collapsed in tears and the actors standing round her seemed almost to flicker from one personality to the other, the silence in the theater was electric. The curtain descended and, a moment later, the audience burst into thunderous applause. Peggy, limp with excitement, watched in almost shocked surprise as Paula rose from the stage. She had half expected her to remain sobbing on the floor as she had done in rehearsals, but now, when Paula stood up, Peggy saw that her face was suffused with a smile of pure girlish delight. She was good! The audience knew she was good ... the cast knew she was good ... and—most important—she now knew it herself. Radiantly, she came to Peggy and said, in a quiet and controlled voice, “I think we’re doing well, don’t you?” Then both of them laughed aloud, knowing beyond all shadow of a doubt that this was the understatement of the evening. A few minutes before the third act, Randy knocked at the dressing-room door. “Come in,” Peggy said. “We’re decent.” “You’re more than decent,” Randy said with a grin, “you’re marvelous! Both of you,” he added, with a nod to Greta. “Thank you,” Greta said. “And now, if I know anythink about anything, I think I’d better leave you two alone!” “Greta!” Peggy said in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean by....” “You tell her, Randy,” Greta said, edging past him. “But don’t take too long. We’re on in a few minutes.” “She’s ... she’s just being silly,” Peggy said, blushing. “Is she?” Randy asked innocently. “I thought she was making perfect sense!” Peggy began carefully to inspect her make-up and touch up her eyebrows. “Don’t get so shy all of a sudden,” Randy said. “Besides, I didn’t come here to ... well, I mean, I had no intention....” He paused awkwardly. “Anyway,” he finished, “at least not now, I didn’t. I really came to tell you that I’ve been to see Paula’s parents in the projection booth, and I’ve never seen two happier people in my life. If they glowed any more than they’re doing now, they’d throw the whole lighting plan out of kilter!” “Then they don’t mind having waited to see Paula?” Peggy asked. “Not at all. They feel sure now that you were right. Mrs. Andrews said that she wouldn’t have done anything that could have hurt Paula’s performance. And what a performance!” The lights flicked off and on, warning them that curtain time was near. “I’d better go,” Randy said. “I just wanted to tell you I’d seen them, and also to tell you that we’re all invited to a party they’re giving after the show. They want to wait up for the first editions of the papers to see what kind of reviews we get.” “Will we get reviews in the first editions?” Peggy asked. “I thought only the first-string critics did that, for important show openings.” “That’s right,” Randy said, helping Peggy up the circular stair. “And we’ve got the first-string critics! That’s the one piece of ‘interference’ that Mr. Andrews indulged in. He called the newspaper reviewers and told them that he had heard of the show, and that it would be worth their while to cover it themselves, instead of sending assistants the way they do with so many off-Broadway openings. Apparently a word from him is all it takes, because they’re all out there ... and a lot of other important people, too!” “Oh dear!” said Peggy. “I wish you hadn’t told me! It’s going to make the whole thing difficult all over again!” “Places!” Murphy called. “So long!” Randy said, and left, but not before he had quickly placed a kiss on the back of Peggy’s neck, where it wouldn’t spoil her make-up. |
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