Portrait of a Girl
I wore my best attire and most frivolous headgear, and had even applied a touch of rose lipsalve to my mouth, purloined wickedly in a hasty moment from a tiny jar that Dame Jenny had left carelessly on a mantelshelf. My cheeks were already over-bright from excitement and for this I used a film of rice powder. The result gave me confidence and an elated sense of sophistication. There was a hint of suspicion in the old lady’s eyes as she bid me farewell, with affection, yet admonishment as well in her voice.
    ‘ Good luck, child,’ she said, ‘and remember to be modest and careful how ye do address the great music-man. Talent you must have, or the master wouldn’ be doin’ all this for thee. But good manners count always, remember that.’
    I glanced back, smiling at her over my shoulder. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said, and meant it.
    The day was fine, and pale winter sunlight spread its gold over the city, and all around giving added enchantment to the occasion which wasn’t however entirely without trepidation on my part. But I needn’t have worried.
    Signor Luigi instead of appearing fierce and over-critical that day as he usually was, acted in an entirely different manner, being quite flattering and warm in encouragement following my tryout of Lucy Lockett’s first ditty in the opera.
    ‘ That is good,’ he said. ‘There are points here and there needing strict attention, and you still have much to study of stagecraft. We have three weeks of intensive training before us, during which, in your spare time you must learn — learn , until words come automatically without thought. I shall scold you maybe sometimes, perhaps very often, and you must expect my friend, the producer, will do more of it during the two days in Exeter before the opening performance. Well?’ He cocked his head sideways like an inquisitive robin, ‘do you wish to become Lucy Lockett for a time, Miss Josephine? And if so — can you promise solemnly to obey instructions without argument or show of your fiery temper? It is a great chance you have before you. Do not forget it.’
    I agreed with alacrity. ‘Oh yes — yes. If you think I’m good enough, of course —’ I cried.
    ‘ I do not think you are yet good,’ he told me with a whimsical smile. ‘But you have grace and talent. See that you apply both to the best of your ability and I’m sure no one will have cause to complain.’
    So it was that I returned to Tregonnis that evening able to tell Dame Jenny of my success, wishing at the same time that Rupert was there to hear the news.
    During the following weeks most of my time was spent in Truro. It was a period of conflicting moods — of expectancy, exhilaration, optimism and disappointments combined with physical exertion that left me too tired at the end of each day to brood on other matters. Luigi, anxious that I should not over-strain my voice, included hours of concentrated dramatic tuition that occasionally so irritated and frustrated me, I could have screamed. However, I miraculously managed to keep any nervous reaction under control — outwardly, though Dame Jenny commented frequently that I was touchy and on edge at Tregonnis.
    ‘ I must say you do speak over-sharp to me these days,’ she commented once. ‘I hope when the master calls you’ll remember to be more polite.’
    ‘ I don’t think the master’s much interested in me or what I’m doing,’ I replied shortly, and I had really begun to believe this was true, since he’d looked in at the cottage only once during the first fortnight of rehearsing, and had then appeared remote and withdrawn as though he had other more important affairs on his mind.
    ‘ That’s a wicked thing to say,’ the old lady retorted irately, ‘’specially when he’s paying a little fortune to get you where you want to be.’
    ‘ I didn’t expect or ask him to launch me,’ I replied, ‘or for his money either. This Beggar’s Opera business and the lessons with Signor

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