target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_96e16789-9aa8-57d3-b7d2-c333b3e70ad1">PART ONE Kiss of Death
Connecticut, 1989
‘…break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away.’
JOHN DONNE
‘The coward does it with a kiss.’
OSCAR WILDE
The girl sat on a narrow bench, centre stage, her body bent forward, one elbow on her knee, a hand supporting her head. The thinker, deeply thinking, her body language seemed to convey.
She was dressed very simply, boyishly, in a loose, grey, knitted tunic cinched by a black leather belt, worn with black tights and ballet slippers. Her long, reddish-gold hair was plaited, the plaits wound tightly around her head, so that the finished effect was like a burnished-copper cap gleaming under the pin-spot shining down. The girl’s name was Katie Byrne and she was seventeen: acting was her entire life.
She was about to act for her favourite audience – an audience of two: her best friends, Carly Smith and Denise Matthews. They sat on straight-backed wooden chairs in front of the makeshift stage in the old barn which belonged to Ted Matthews, Denise’s uncle. Both girls were the same age as Katie, and had been friends since childhood; all three were members of the amateur acting group at the high school in the rural Connecticut area where they all lived.
Katie had chosen to perform a speech from one of Shakespeare’s plays at the school’s upcoming Christmas concert. It was only two months away, and she had recently begun to rehearse the piece; Carly and Denise were also perfecting their chosen speeches for the same concert, rehearsing with her in the barn almost every day.
Now, at last, Katie lifted her head, stared out into space, and focused her blue eyes on the back wall of the barn, as if she saw something visible only to herself. Taking a deep breath, she began.
‘To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them. To die –’
Abruptly, Katie stopped.
She jumped up off the bench, walked to the edge of the stage, looked down at her friends. Shaking her head, she seemed unexpectedly uncertain of herself, she who normally had such confidence and self-possession.
‘I’m not getting it right,’ Katie wailed.
‘Yes, you are, and you’re wonderful!’ Carly cried, rising, stepping closer to the stage, the stage on which they had started to act when they were children. ‘Nobody does Shakespeare the way you do it. You’re the best, Katie.’
‘Carly’s right,’ Denise agreed as she went to join Carly near the stage. ‘It’s the way you act the words, say them. You make sense out of them, and there’s never been a Hamlet like you.’
Katie burst out laughing. ‘Thanks for your compliment, Denny, but there were a few others before me…Laurence Olivier and Richard Burton, to name a couple of them…they were the greatest classical actors on the English-speaking stage, just as Christopher Plummer is the greatest classical actor today. And listen, I keep telling you, it’s all to do with understanding the meaning of the words, the motivation and intention behind them. And also with punctuation, knowing when to run the words on without pause, and when to pause to breathe…’ She let the sentence trail off, knowing now was not the right time to give Denise another acting lesson.
Returning to the bench, she seated herself, adopted the thinker’s position, which was comfortable for her, and sat ruminating for a moment or two.
Whatever her friends said, however much praise they lavished on her, Katie knew that her performance was slightly off today. Her concentration was not what it usually was, and she wasn’t sure why. Unless it was because she felt guilty at being here this afternoon. Her mother wasn’t well, and she was needed at home to help out. And yet, selfishly, she had decided to steal this time at the barn in order to rehearse the speech from Hamlet, and persuaded her friends to come with her after school.
Then rehearse, a small voice inside her head instructed. She took several deep breaths, relaxed her throat, let the stillness of the stage envelop her, calm her.
Within minutes she was ready, and she launched herself into Hamlet’s soliloquy, her natural self-confidence perfectly in place once more.
Listening attentively, Carly was transported by Katie’s voice, as she always was. There was a lovely resonance to it, full of nuances and feeling. No wonder, Carly said to herself, thinking of the way Katie practised, was endlessly training her voice. They all knew how serious she was about acting. Katie was dedicated, disciplined, and very determined to succeed. Somehow, Katie knew how to act the parts she had chosen without having had too many lessons, while Denise and she sort of stumbled along as best they could. Fortunately, they were improving, thanks to Katie’s relentless coaching and encouragement.
They had first started acting together seven years ago, ten-year-olds with stars in their eyes. Denise’s Uncle Ted had let them make use of the old barn at the far end of his property, and they had created a makeshift theatre out of it. At that time they had made a promise to each other, had vowed they would go to New York one day and start their acting careers in earnest. Making it to Broadway was their big dream. Katie kept promising that the three of them would move to the city once they finished high school, and that eventually they would be stars on the Great White Way. Carly hoped this would come true, that they would have their names in lights, but sometimes she was filled with doubts.
Denise had no doubts whatsoever, and as she sat next to Carly, watching Katie on the stage, relishing her performance, she was absolutely positive that their dreams would soon materialize. Katie was brilliant, there was no question, and they themselves were getting better and better, mostly because of Katie’s intense lessons. When they went to New York they would find an apartment to share, go to acting school, and become professional actresses. It was all going to work, the dream would become reality, she was convinced.
Katie suddenly stood up, moved downstage right, and continued, ‘To die, to sleep – No more, and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep – To sleep, perchance to dream…’
Flawlessly, and without faltering once, Katie went on to complete this most famous of Shakespearean speeches, her well-modulated voice rising and falling as she gave emphasis to certain words, less importance to others. And the quality of her acting was superb; after her initial hesitation, her seeming loss of confidence, she had gone forward sure-footedly.
When Katie was finally finished, she remained motionless for a second or two, her cornflower-blue eyes still focused in the distance, and then she blinked several times before glancing at Carly and Denise. And then she smiled at them broadly, sure in the knowledge that she had managed to get the speech right at last.
Her friends began to clap and cheer and they bounded up onto the stage enthusiastically, hugged her, congratulated her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, grinning in return, and hugging them back. ‘But don’t you think I should rehearse again tomorrow, just to make sure?’
They both drew away and gaped at her in astonishment.
Denise cried, ‘You don’t need another rehearsal! But we do. And you’ve got to help us tomorrow. I’ll never get my Desdemona speech right, and Carly’s still having trouble with her Portia, aren’t you, Carly?’
‘I am a bit.’ Carly sounded miserable. Then her voice changed, became more positive as she added, ‘As for you, Katie Byrne, you’re just awesome.’