Thespian Love

Looking back now over several decades I wonder at how naïve, how innocent, most of us young people were, especially when it came to sex. For those who have been born since those days in the nineteen forties and fifties, you probably won't believe me when I say that at nineteen years of age I had never had a sexual intercourse. Nevertheless it is true, and it was true of many of the young people in our village.

Of course the boys used to boast about their sexual experiences, but most of it wasn't true, and if it was they usually found themselves in front of the vicar being married to a very pregnant bride, because whatever means of contraception were around in those days, we were mostly ignorant of them. So the village girls spent a lot of time fighting off the boys' wandering hands, knowing what the outcome would probably be if they succumbed.

To give you a bit of background: My name is Trevor Trudinga and I was born in St. Monica's by the Brook, usually abbreviated by the locals to "St. Mons." The implications of this abbreviation were lost to most of us back then.

I had hardly ever been outside the village, except just before Christmas when my parents took us kids to buy the Christmas presents in the County Town that was the unbelievably vast distance of eight miles from our village. Other boys and girls were not given even this adventure and would say things like, "I ain't ever been there nor do I ever want to."

The village was hardly a hive of industry and was made up of those who worked as labourers in the surrounding farms; the people who worked for the few shop keepers, tradespeople or as servants for the Big Wigs. These days you might say "the place was lost in time."

A word about the Bigwigs; there were those who had beyond living memory, always been there, like the people up at the "Big House." Then there were "The Foreigner Big Wigs." The latter were the sort of people who had arrived in the village, to use a later expression, "To get away from it all," and who had only been around the place for a while – anywhere between newly arrived and thirty years.

They were something of a mystery to us real villagers and many of them seemed to have heaps of money and had by our standards no visible means of earning it. At the same time they gradually came to take over village affairs, but more of that shortly.

Regarding myself, well, I was one of the more fortunate of the village youth. When I left school at fourteen and a half I got an apprenticeship with the only local electrician. This put me, as you might say, among the elite of the village youth, along with the plumber's and the butcher's apprentices.

When I was about sixteen I came to realise that there was little for us teenagers to do in the village. There was a Saturday night film show in a dilapidated corrugated iron hall and an occasional "Village hop" in the church hall; and this is where the Big Wig foreigners came into the picture.

One of them, or maybe more, got the idea that, "The young people need something to do that will enhance their cultural awareness." This began a rash of clubs in the village; Morris dancing, gymnastics, hiking, music appreciation, arts and crafts and the club that I got involved with, The St. Monica's Thespians. I think all these activities were more for the entertainment of the Big Wigs rather than the cultural elevation of us village young people.

I got involved because of one of the village girls I was a bit keen on and who let me hold her hand when we went to see a film together and had let me kiss her a couple of times, was involved. She had joined the Thespians and she'd given me a free ticket to go and see a play they were putting on at the church hall. I'd never seen a live play before, and although now I can see how lousy the actors were, at the time I thought they were marvellous as I laughed my way through a slightly risqué comedy.

It was a few weeks after seeing this play that the girl – I remember now, her name was Brenda – said to me, "Trev, were starting to rehearse a new play but we can't get enough men, the boys think its sissy to be in something like that. Would you come along with me, it's ever so much fun."

I didn't like the idea, but thinking it might lead to more kisses with Brenda, and after a bit of imploring on her part, I agreed to give it a try.

The rehearsals were held in the house of a couple of foreigner Big Wigs, Major and Mrs. Price-Evans because they had a big room. I went feeling somewhat nervous and wondering how I could face the other boys in the village when they knew what I was doing.

It turned out that Major Price-Evans was what they called then "The producer," which meant he told everyone else what to do. He was a big, tweedy, loud voiced man who spoke in a posh voice and looked as if he was about forty years of age.

"Aha," he bawled when Brenda introduced me, "a young hopeful...good...excellent, just what we're looking for." He seemed to think I was about half a mile away from him the way he yelled.

Mrs. Price-Evans looked younger than the major and a lot more attractive; she spoke quietly but as I was to find out, she could be somewhat compelling. I guessed her to be around the mid twenties.

When Brenda introduced me to her she said, "Brenda darling, where did you find him. Nigel" – that was the major – "I think we've got our juvenile lead."

Nigel responded, "Yes...yes...he looks the part, but can he speak...can he move?"

Since he'd seen me walk into the room and I'd said, "Pleased to meet you," when we were introduced, I thought his question a bit odd.

"Well let's give him something to read," Mrs. Price-Evans said.

I had the feeling that they were talking about me as if I wasn't there, but after a bit of a conference the two of them found a place in a little book that I afterwards learned was called a script, I was told to "project darling."

Now I'd always come top of the class for reading, and the vicar often got me to read from the bible in church, so I was rather proud of my ability. Mrs. Price-Evans came and stood close to me and said, "In this scene Pam has just broken off her engagement to Joe who has arrived to try and find out what he'd done wrong. Pam is reassuring him he has done nothing wrong and she still loves him passionately."

I wondered why, if she loved him passionately, she'd broken off the engagement, but apparently this didn't matter. The script was very different from the things I'd read before, with lots of words in brackets and written in italics. To make matters worse there were half a dozen other people sitting around staring at me.

Mrs. Price-Evans made a start and I tried to sort out which words I was supposed to read and what not to read. I made a horrible mess of it.

"No...no...no..." boomed the major, "this won't do at all. He's supposed to be angry but still deeply in love and he's reading it like a laundry list."

"Patience Nigel, he's only just seen the script and he's probably never done anything like this before...you haven't, have you?"

"No," I said, slightly red faced and annoyed at the way they talked about me as if I wasn't there.

"All right...all right..." the major said, "let's give it another try if you think it's worth it."

We began again, and I was determined to show I could do it. Being the second time I did do better, but the major wasn't satisfied.

Mrs. Price-Evans said rather stiffly, "Nigel, all he needs is practice and rehearsal. Look at him; he's perfect for the apart. Let's see how he moves. Darling, go out of the door, and then come in and approach me like a young man desperately in love yet angry with me."

I got outside the door all right, but hadn't the least idea how you approached someone that you're in love with and angry with at the same time. I wasn't sure that a few extra kisses from Brenda was worth all this humiliation.

The major's voice boomed out, "Well, are you coming in or not?"

I thought, "Bugger you major, I'll show you."

I burst into the room and hurtled over to Mrs. Price-Evans and said the first line; "I was just pissing and I thought I'd pop in."

There was a roar of laughter from the watchers and Mrs. Price-Evans, and a cry of despair from the major.

"The word is passing...passing...not...oh my God, it's bloody hopeless."

"I've had enough," I said, and started to walk out.

Mrs. Price-Evans followed me and took my arm saying, "Don't go, please, you can do it, I'll teach you."

The major intervened saying, "But he's got no idea..."

"Be quiet Nigel; how good were you the first time you read a script? Trevor looks perfect for the part, tall, good-looking, and he'll be all right I promise you."

The major seemed to sink into a shell saying, "Well, if you think so."

"You'd like to play the part, wouldn't you Trevor?" asked Mrs. Price-Evans.

Having been on the receiving end of her flattery of my she had me well and truly on side. "Yes, if you want me to and if you'll teach me what to do," I said.

"Good, then let's get on with it Nigel."

The major sighed deeply, looked around at the gathering, and said, "Right, we'll just do a read through of the whole play for the benefit of our young...er...friend."

I hadn't really tumbled to the fact that Mrs. Price-Evans was playing the part of the erstwhile fiancé, nor had I realised that my role would involve some pretty hot love scenes. As we progressed through the play my reading improved, but my doubts about being able to engage in passionate embraces with Mrs. Price-Evans grew.

Had it been Brenda, who was playing the part of a bridesmaid, I might have felt more secure, but the slightly imperious though undoubtedly attractive Mrs. Price-Evans, made me feel daunted.

When we had read through the play the major said somewhat reluctantly, "All right, he'll do. Thursday night everybody and we'll start to move the play, and for God's sake start learning your lines. We don't want a debacle like that time the prompter spoke more lines than the actors."

As we walked home together I told Brenda of my doubts about appearing as Mrs. Price-Evans fiancé.

"I think you're very lucky, Trev," she said, "She's a very attractive woman and there are a lot of boys in the village who'd like to play love scenes with her."

I refrained from pointing out that until I'd come along there didn't seem to have been many of the boys offering for the role. But I thought it might start an argument and I wouldn't get a goodnight kiss. I didn't get much of a kiss anyway; just a quick peck on the mouth and the assurance that she was looking forward to rehearsing with me.

By Thursday night the major seemed to be reconciled to my being in the play, and although he was supposed to tell us what to do he almost ignored me, leaving it to his wife to shuffle me into various positions.

What I discovered during the evening was that my hands became much larger and more prominent and I didn't know what to do with them. In addition I found that I had more feet than I'd arrived with and I kept getting them tangled up.

When I was told to move up stage or down stage I had no idea where they were, and left and right seemed to escape me.

On occasions when the major chose to recognise my existence he would bellow, "No...no...for Christ sake the other way...no...I said two paces..."

Mrs. Price-Evens was continually coming to my rescue, "This way Trevor...that's right; now just keep still."

Even when we engaged in an embrace and I trod on her feet she did not lose patience and said, "We'll leave the embraces and kissing until we've had a few practices on our own and you'll get more confidence that way."

Again I felt like walking out, but with my hopes for closer contact with Brenda still high I hung in.

At the end of the evening Mrs. Price-Evans made an arrangement with me for a private rehearsal on Saturday afternoon, and when the major said, "Okay everybody, Monday evening, and don't bloody well be late," the rehearsal broke up and I walked home with Brenda.

On the way I was surprised when she said, "Isn't Nigel wonderful."

I'd noticed everybody but me called him "Nigel," and Mrs. Price-Evans was "Nerina." As for Nigel being "wonderful," I made it plain that I thought he was a loud mouthed bully and couldn't understand why a nice woman like Mrs. Price-Evans had married him.

Brenda was somewhat put out by my frankness and said, "That's because you don't understand him. He's very talented, artistic and so masterful."

That I made no further comments about Nigel availed me nothing. My candid expression of what I thought about Nigel had already lost me my goodnight kiss.

Between Thursday night and Saturday afternoon I spent time trying to learn my lines. I didn't find this easy but felt I'd made some creditable progress. Approaching the Price-Evans house I felt somewhat edgy, wondering if Nigel would now start his yelling again. Fortunately he wasn't there.

Before we began, and having addressed Mrs. Price-Evans as such, she invited me to call her Nerina. "After all, Trevor, you are a member of the troupe now, and we all call each other by our Christian names."

That settled we got down to work. It consisted largely of Nerina showing me how to hold her in loving and passionate embraces. I'd seen them do that sort of thing in films and it always looked so easy. When I came to try it arms and legs got tangled up and I was too shy to get close to Nerina.

She kept telling me to relax and hold her close, bringing this about by pulling close herself and tugging me to her. Jammed up against her I confess to experiencing some pleasant sensations. She was, as I have indicated, a very attractive woman, and having her lower half pressed against mine, and her somewhat prominent bosom against my chest, gave rise to feelings one was not supposed to have for a married woman, or, if the vicar was to be believed, for any woman.

We went through this routine several times and I was so involved that I forgot the words I'd so carefully memorised. Fortunately Nerina also seemed to be struggling for her words; or "lines" as she called them.

We went on practicing for about an hour with occasional breaks that seemed a sort of recovery period. We did not try kissing because Nerina had decided we could practice that on another occasion.

On Monday night we continued to be given our moves, and this time I had a better idea of which direction was where. My clinches with Nerina went off quite well and Nigel spent most of his time yelling at the other actors, all of them seeming to be in awe of him.

He only bawled at me once when I failed to kiss Nerina. She pointed out to him quite calmly that this would come later after I'd had another session with her in private.

This didn't quieten him and he went on, talking again as if I wasn't there, "Well for God's sake how much longer is it going to bloody well take?"

This time I'd had enough, and as grateful as I was to Nerina for her patient help I hit back.

"If you talk about me or to me like that once more, I'll walk out."

There was a deathly hush. Everybody seemed to be waiting for Nigel to explode. Instead he collapsed like a balloon that had been stuck with a needle. He turned away and continued the rehearsal, gruffly giving me my moves when he had to.

My threat to walk out ended my hopes with Brenda.

"How could you talk to Nigel like that," she screeched at me when we got outside the house. "He's a wonderful man and you're nothing but an ignorant village boy."

I could have pointed out that when we were at school she'd always come near the bottom of the class, but any such retort was cut off when she announced, "And you needn't bother to walk home with me any more, you insensitive lout."

With that she flounced off and to my amazement I found I didn't care nearly as much as I thought I would. With Nerina's help I was starting to get some confidence in my thespian abilities, and having put a spoke in the wheel of Nigel's arrogance I was feeling good about myself.

The kissing practice with Nerina began as awkwardly as the embracing session. At this point I should perhaps explain some of the stumbling blocks at that time inherent in any other than a very formal relationship between myself and someone like Nerida.

First, was the simple fact that she was a married woman; second, my inexperience in, shall we say, handling a woman; third, although less rigidly held, was the idea that the man should be older than the woman if any intimate contact was to be engaged in; fourth, and the most strictly held to, was class distinction.

Although many people may have read "Lady Chatterley's Lover" with salacious interest, and there were rumoured to be cases where male servants engaged in sexual relationships with their female employers, the idea that a member of the "lower orders" should be involved with their "betters" in this way was considered abhorrent.

In our village as I have indicted, there were two sorts of "betters;" the people in the "Big House," who were our betters by divine right and always had been, and the foreign "Big Wigs." The latter were our betters largely because they had money and one way we of the lower orders could get our hands on to it was to "suck up" to the Big Wigs.

An ordinary villager needed to "know his or her place" in the divinely ordained scheme of things. A Big Wig could be the most scurrilous and outrageous person, breaking all the rules of morality and ethics as they were dinned into us by the vicar, but they were still a Big Wig and not be to questioned by the lower orders.

Nigel and Nerina were Big Wigs. I had already broken through the ancient taboo by standing up to Nigel, but being in close physical contact with Nerina was another thing altogether.

In these days of alleged egalitarianism many may find this rigid social arrangement nigh on incomprehensible, but for us that was how it was.

This was so much the case that my parents, when they learned of my involvement with the Thespians, and even though Brenda was also involved, warned me about getting above my station in life. I should point out that the others involved in the play were all Big Wigs. My father drove home the point by announcing, "No good will come of it; it's all the fault of the war (Second World War) and school learning."

Hence I had several barriers to overcome when getting into loving partnership with Nerida, even if only in play-acting. On her side Nerina seemed to have no difficulty in relating to me in this way and words often on her lips were, "Relax Trevor, there's nothing to get all tensed up about."

Once we started the kissing there was something very definite to get tensed up about, and I certainly did get tense, although I suspect not in the way she meant. I had hardly had a proper cuddle and kiss with a village girl, and to find myself in close encounter with a woman of some experience and sophistication had an alarming effect on me.

Nerina and I went beyond the practising of hugs and kisses to take in other aspects of the play. We rehearsed whole scenes in which we were together and soon we were both well ahead of the other actors at rehearsals, in lines, movement and the general understanding of what we were doing.

As the rehearsal time went on I came to see that Nerina in fact knew more about putting on a play than Nigel, despite his authoritarian manner. Actually I think his manner arose largely as cover up for his lack of ability.

When you first come into a social situation you tend to take things as they are. As time goes on you begin to see some of the dynamics of the situation. So it was for me with the Thespians.

There were eight actors, three men and five women, plus a girl who was what they called "Props" and a guy who was stage manager. Ages ranged from about eighteen to fifty. There was a lot of "Dears," Darlings," and "Sweethearts," involved in their interaction. I later learned that this was how theatre people were supposed to address each other, even if they loathed each other.