was the Angus’s birthday. He, the Ross, and the rest of the lairds and the three witches were not called for the evening’s rehearsal. They arranged with other free members of the cast to meet at the Swan in Southwark and drink Angus’s health.
They arrived in twos and threes and it was quite late by the time the witches, who had been rehearsing in the afternoon, came in. Two girls and a man. The man (First Witch) was a part Maori called Rangi Western, not very dark but with the distinctive short upper lip and flashing eyes. He had a beautiful voice and was a prize student from the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. The second witch was a nondescript thin girl called Wendy, possessed of a remarkable voice: harsh, with strange, unexpected intervals. The third was a lovely child, a white-blonde, delicate, with enormous eyes and a babyish high-pitched voice. She was called Blondie.
Their rehearsal had excited them. They came in talking loudly. “Rangi, you were
marvelous
. You sent cold shivers down my spine. Truly. And that movement! I thought Perry would stop you but he didn’t. The stamp. It was super. We’ve got to do it, Wendy, along with Rangi. His tongue. And his eyes. Everything.”
“I thought it was fabulous giving us the parts. I mean the
difference
! Usually they all look alike and are too boring for words — all masks and mumbles. But we’re
really
evil. I mean
really
!”
“Angus!” they shouted. “Happy birthday, love. Bless you.”
Now they had all arrived. The witches were the center of attention. Rangi was not very talkative, but the two girls excitedly described his performance at rehearsal.
“He was standing with us, listening to Perry’s description, weren’t you, Rangi? Perry was saying we have to be the
incarnation
of
evil
. Not a drop of goodness anywhere about us.
“It’s got to be
there
. You know? In every move we make. How did he put it, Wendy?”
“ ‘Trembling with animosity,’ ” said Wendy.
“Yes. And I was standing by Rangi and I
felt
him tremble, I swear I did.”
“You did, didn’t you, Rangi? Tremble?”
“Sort of,” Rangi mumbled. “Don’t make such a thing about it.”
“No, but you were marvelous. You sort of grunted and bent your knees. And your
face
! Your tongue! And eyes!”
“Anyway, Perry was completely taken with it and asked him to repeat it and asked us to do it — not too much. Just a kind of ripple of hatred. It’s going to work, you know.”
“Putting a curse on him. That’s what it is, Rangi, isn’t it?”
“Have a drink, Rangi, and show us.”
Rangi made a brusque, dismissive gesture and turned away to greet the Angus.
The men closed around him. They were none of them quite drunk, but they were noisy. The members of the company now far outnumbered the other patrons, who had taken their drinks to a table in the corner of the room and looked on with ill-concealed interest.
“It’s my round,” Angus shouted. “I’m paying, all of you. No arguments. Yes, I insist.
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold
,” he shouted.
His voice faded out and so, raggedly, did all the others. Blondie’s giggle persisted and died. A single voice — Angus’s — asked uncertainly: “What’s up? Oh. Oh, I see. Oh, hell! Never mind. Sorry everybody. Drink up.”
They drank in silence. Rangi drained his pint of light and bitter. Angus nodded to the barman, who replaced it with another. Angus mimed pouring in something else and laid an uncertain finger on his lips. The barman winked and added a tot of gin. He pushed the drink over toward Rangi’s hand. Rangi’s back was turned but he felt the glass, looked around, and saw it.
“Is that mine?” he asked, puzzled.
They all seized on this. They said confusedly that of course it was his drink. “Go on, have it. Drink it up. No heeltaps.”
It was something to make a fuss about, something that would make them all forget about Angus’s blunder. They bet Rangi