Rehearsals increased in both frequency and intensity leading up to opening night. Anne was fortunate to have been such a voracious reader in her younger years or there is no way she would have been able to keep up with her school work. There were some in the cast not so lucky but they seemed to deem it a worthy sacrifice, or at least that's what they said every time they got back a failing grade. Anne suspected that they would regret having lost their places at college for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern but it wasn't her place to judge. She felt a little guilty for letting a few important stories sit ideally by at the paper, but her editor was a huge theatre fan and granted her an official leave of absence as a show of support for the production. Anne found out later that he'd auditioned for nearly every play produced the previous year but found his talents were better served as an enthusiastic reviewer and theatre club booster.
A day's train ride away Gilbert was taking the opposite approach: sacrifice all extra-curricular activities and diversions in service of one's scholastic and professional goals, and it was working for him. Gilbert was on the shortlist for the Osler internship and rumour had it it was between him and one other chap for the Gold metal. While his Toronto friends felt somewhat abandoned, he sent letters home without fail and Anne could hardly go a week without another rich and full note from her beloved. Gilbert corresponded with such regularity that at times Anne would receive two, and sometimes three, letters from him before she had an opportunity to write him back. By all accounts, though, he didn't seem to mind. He was happy Anne had found friends in Charlottetown and pleased that she had an outlet for her passion. He would have been lost without the Christine and the Trolly Dodgers this year and he knew it.
"Anne, do you think you ought to be spending so much time alone with Christopher? I mean, you and Gilbert are courting aren't you?" Dianne asked her bosom friend one evening, entirely out of the blue.
"Why Diana! I didn't take you for old fashioned. Can't a boy and a girl, I mean a woman and a man, be just good friends?"
"In theory yes, but give me a real life example."
"Well, Moody and I are fiends and there is zero romantic attachment there."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"You and Moody are friendly but you've never spent a moment alone together. You don't share your inner thoughts and feelings with him, or he with you. It's different. You and Christopher are so … close."
"Moody told me a secret just the other day at the social if you must know!"
"Anne, please, everyone knows Moody is carrying a torch for Ruby. It's not a secret! He tells everyone he meets."
"Okay, what about Jerry? Jerry and I are good friends and there is absolutely nothing between us nor will there ever be. Not in one million years. Ugh." She shivered.
"Thanks."
"No, Diana, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that Jerry is … isn't … "
"It's fine, Anne. But it's not the same. Jerry is like a brother to you, or a cousin. He's also an employee of the Cuthbert's. There are plenty of controls in place. But with you and Christopher … Anne, you must see that he likes you." There was a long pause.
"The way he looks at you, Anne, I'm certain he has feelings for you," Diana added. An even longer pause lingered between them.
"Truthfully, Diana, I hadn't considered it until the social. When we danced that afternoon, though, I felt like maybe it meant something more to him than it did to me. Here's the thing, and I may be way out in left field here, but I think that's ok. Christopher knows my affections are otherwise engaged and I have been very careful not to lead him on. Assuming he has feelings for me, I don't see why they need interrupt our friendship, which means a great deal to me. I gues what I am saying is that I am fine with it."
"And Gilbert? Is Gilbert fine with it?"
"I assume so, although I guess I haven't spoken to him directly on the subject. I will make sure to discuss it in person if he visits over spring break."
"That's weeks away."
"I know, but it will give me an opportunity to get my head around the situation and figure out the right words."
"I suppose so."
"It's settled then. Thank you for the sounding board, Diana. Much appreciated!"
In the great tradition of the theatre, the final dress rehearsal for Hamlet went terribly. Anne tripped on her costume and fell flat on her face, Christopher forgot his lines during all of the soliloquies, and the entire Company was just off. They left the auditorium deflated, in spite of the director's promise that a bad dress rehearsal is a good omen for opening night.
Anne had a fitful sleep and awoke with butterflies in her stomach that she simply could not shake as the day wore on. When she stepped in to play The Boy in the Avonela community pantomime a few years earlier, she hadn't had more than a moment to prepare. This time, she'd been preparing for weeks and was so very invested. This was no pantomime. This was Shakespeare. The Bard. The greatest playwright of all time. And Hamlet, the greatest play ever written.
"No pressure," she said to herself. "It's just a play. It's just a play."
Dressed, warmed up, and ready to go, Anne stood backstage watching as the curtain went up and the action of the play began. From the moment he made his first entrance, Christopher was magnificent. All of the hesitation and uncertainty he'd struggled with in the dress entirely melted away. Tonight, the audience couldn't take their eyes off of Hamlet and Anne was so pleased for her friend.
Anne's first costume was a cream-coloured gown, chosen to accentuate the highly charged politics of Ophelia's virginity and of course to catch the light. In the style of the period, it had an empire waistline and gathered in a few places along the sleeves. Anne wore her hair up in tightly woven braids for an aura of regalness and a little foreshadowing of Ophelia's forthcoming unravelling.
In typical Anne fashion, however, she rushed her first entrance and found herself alone on stage during what was supposed to be an extended transition at the beginning of Act 1, Scene 3. She looked around for Francis who was playing the role of Ophelia's brother Laertes but he was no where to be seen. Her heart stopped for a moment, and then from the wings:
"My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:"
It was Francis. He came running on. He wasn't wearing his coat on account of his quick change being cut short but he was there.
"And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you," stated Laertes, a little out of breath.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief, focused her mind's eye, and slipped entirely into character.
"Do you doubt that?" answered Ophelia.
Nothing could stop her now. Anne was on fire and the whole room could feel the heat.
When Ophelia graced the stage in Act 4, Scene 5 two hours later, every member of the audience gasped simultaneously. Anne has donned a second gown, this one flowy in rich green, gold, and brown earth colours. Her bright red hair was down and she wore a lush crown made of wild flowers upon her head. She was a vision, a ghost, an angel and the push and pull between her and Christopher was electric. Over the course of the scene, driven by Hamlet's cruelty and her father's death, Ophelia spiraled into madness and Anne's interpretation of her descent pulled no punches. Anne held nothing back - nothing. It was tragic. It was magic.
If the audience's response when the curtain went down was any indication, they were a hit! The post-show adrenaline rush was shared by all, and as a result it took the stage manager over half an hour to get everyone in the cast off the stage and into their dressing rooms. Anne dreamily removed her costume, piece by piece, methodically paying homage to each item before returning it to the dressing rack. She was so slow, in fact, that the assistant stage manager assumed she'd left and gave the crew the all clear to shut things down.
When Anne emerged, the stage was empty and the theatre dark. Swept up in the magic of the moment, she snuck back on stage and lit one of the footlights downstage centre. She stood there for many minutes, drinking in the light, letting it fill her. Slowly she raised her right hand, or rather, it levitated. She rotated it left to right, right to left, letting the light bounce here and there like a dance. She was so completely in the moment that she didn't see Christopher appear upstage left. He watched her for a long time. His gaze was full of such reverence, such tenderness, that no one could mistake his feelings for her: he was completely smitten.
Christopher opened his mouth, searching for the words. He was about to speak when there was an unexpected sound from the back of the house: the sound of one of the seats in the auditorium closing as someone stood.
"Sorry, sorry," came a quiet voice.
"Is someone there?" asked Anne, a tiny dose of fear in her voice. "Hello?"
Slowly, a tentative figure moved down the centre aisle towards the stage. It took forever for the stage lights to meet the mysterious man but when it did:
"GILBERT!"