This Rough MAGIC

Did Abigail really have what it took to be an actress? She was about to find out

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Abigail was pinning leaves on to Lucy's tunic for that afternoon's performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It wasn't an easy task. Mainly because Lucy - in the middle of giving an account of an incident she'd recently witnessed in the market - just wouldn't keep still.

Lucy wasn't just telling the story, she was acting it, alternating between several characters. She was a one-legged beggar, the furious toothless vendor he was attempting to rob, and all manner of onlookers, each with a voice and personality of their own.

Abigail should have been cross with Lucy for making her job so difficult. But it was impossible not to laugh at her performance. She was glad of the distraction.

'Don't blame me if I stick a pin in you,' Abigail said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. She'd lain awake till the early hours thinking about Dolly Pursglove's words. It was a man's world, she'd declared. And if Abigail was serious about getting a leg up in the acting profession, then she was going to have to find herself an influential man to champion her. The only man of influence she'd had anything to do with so far was Cyprien Blanc. And that hadn't turned out very well at all. The idea of approaching him again was terrifying - but approach him she must.

Before finally dropping off to sleep she had resolved to go and see him first thing. On waking this morning, however, it was as if that resolve had been stolen from her in the night by some mischievous spirit. She must have been crazy to even think it possible.

'Have you finished with me yet?' Lucy demanded. 'Only, if I stand here much longer, I'll get mistaken for a candlestick.'

'Lucy,' Abigail began. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Why of course.'

'How did you get your break here at the theatre?'

'Acting you mean? That's easy. It's what we do in my family.

What we've always done since Adam and Eve were put on God's earth.'