The story of Catherine Lawrence is in 15 parts and I apologise for such a long story but it got out of hand. All 15 parts are completed and for those who like to print the story so you can read it in bed, I will have all 15 parts posted soon.
Carmenica

 

Catherine Lawrence

by Carmenica Diaz

 

Part 1

I think this was the 575^th audition I had attended since I moved to London three and a half years ago. At least it felt like it. To say I had been an overwhelming failure in launching my acting career was being kind.

I had always wanted to be an actor. Of course, I had used the drama studies as a way to escape the constant teasing from the boys at school, the jokes and the terrible stunts they used to pull on me.

Thankfully, I was sent to a co-educational school and I thought the pranks and the teasing would finish but I was wrong. In fact, it became worse. Some of the girls used to egg the boys on and make cruel comments themselves while offering me lipstick.

Like a lot of children, I used comedy and humour to try to make friends. I used to mimic teachers, I could get their voices down perfectly but that soon wore thin and my fellow pupils were soon back at throwing stuff at me, calling me 'Marylyn' which was pretty stupid as I had dark hair but I think you get the point. Every day there would be a move against me, such as suddenly picking me and dropping me in the garbage bins. God, I hated that!

I was a loner right through to university and I tried out for many roles there but was rejected for every one I attempted to win.

There was one role I thought I had, though. Jeremy was directing and he encouraged me, asked me to work through the lines with him and then he tried to kiss me. After that, I decided to pack university in, travel down to London and become a real actor.

There was no doubt in my mine that I was a capable actor, in fact, in my private moments, I daydreamed I had the potential to be a great actor. Unfortunately, directors, producers, casting agencies and theatrical agents all disagreed with me.

'You have excellent skills, my boy,' Martin Handley, the famous theatrical director said one day when he was in an expansive mood after rejecting me once again. 'Great skills, of that there is no doubt. Unfortunately,' he said with a gesture at my appearance, 'you don't have it, you don't have a presence.'

I sighed, I had heard it many times before, perhaps not as kindly put as Handley had said it but heard it I had, over and over again. I didn't have it, the indefinable thing that automatically draws the eyes of the audience to the actor. Some call it charisma; others just call the mysterious ingredient it. Whatever it is, I didn't have it!

It appeared that no one could see me as leading man material and I also didn't have enough other qualities to be an outstanding character actor. I used to stare at my face and wondered why did I have to take after my mother and not after my father? I had her eyes, cheekbones and hair as well as her build. My father had wished I had taken more after him; he had the height, build and determination – everything I appeared to lack.

'Christopher,' Martin soothed, 'you have an excellent voice, an extraordinary ear for accents, why not radio plays? You'd be an enormous success.'

I did one or two radio plays but there weren't enough to keep a person fed and watered in an expensive city like London and, of course, there was the question of working in real theatre. I'm not a snob or I don't think I am but I wanted to work in real theatre, in the West End or, dare I dream, Broadway?

So, I was a sucker and kept coming back for more. I wasn't ready to give up on my dream just yet. The audition for Silken Memories was being held in a small workshop theatre in south London, hidden away from the hustle and bustle and I lined up with the other actors.

Sarah Wright wrote the play and that guaranteed an instant success but the material was excellent as well and really tore at my heart. The strong lead was the female, a woman who goes from rags to riches while enduring emotional pain along the way but I was auditioning for the role of Tom, the husband who deserts her and then faces his own retribution as she blossoms.

Lucy Richards waved at me, really just wriggled her fingers as she passed and I nodded. I had given up trying to persuade her to represent me, she was the best agent in London but she was very selective.

'Christopher, I'm sorry,' she said after I had bothered her for the tenth time, 'I can't represent you, you don't have the qualities.' Lucy was a hard woman and spoke frankly. 'Take a look in the mirror, you will never be a leading man, you're too pretty.'

'Jude Law is pretty,' I said defensively but she just shook his head.

'Jude is masculine and he is a spectacularly handsome male. Chris, you are pretty. Why don't you get Mark to teach you and go on the cabaret circuit? I'll represent you if you want to go into his act but you are really too pretty for a man.' She let the words sink in before she squeezed my arm and said, 'I'm sorry,' before walking away.

At least she didn't mention my height. I had been rejected many times because I wasn't tall enough. It's a cattle call and we all go through it but I wonder if the directors even care about the feelings of the actors? In my case, I knew they didn't.

The director of Silken Memories was Richard Hawkins, a director whose work I admired but personally could not stand. He exhibited all of the bad qualities of a Cambridge graduate and none of the good.

He was talking to Henri Profert, the producer when I sidled onto the stage to read. 'The roles of Tom, David and the others will be easy to fill but I am concerned we haven't got our Simone.'

'We will find her,' Henri soothed. 'It is a difficult role. Ah,' he said with a smile, 'here's Sarah at last.' Sarah Wright stepped onto the stage and sat on the vacant chair next to Richard.

'Simone has to be perfect,' was all she said before rifling through the script. Sarah Wright was such a famous playwright; everyone knew she had the power of veto on any actor selection.

I cleared my throat and Richard nodded as his assistant whispered in his ear.

'Christopher Redden,' I announced. 'I'm reading the final scene between Tom and Simone.' They nodded and I began. I was just getting to the crucial part when Richard waved and said, 'Thank you, next.'

Sarah watched me as I slowly walked from the stage. A tall handsome man bounded past me. 'Wade Thompson,' he announced and began to read the same part I had just attempted to perform.

'Wait,' Richard called and I turned around. 'You,' he said pointing at me. 'What's your name?'

'Christopher Redden,' I murmured, brushing my hair from my eyes.

'Can you read the Simone part so we can get an idea of how Wade would go, get a real feel for the scene?'

I almost told him to get stuffed when Sarah said, 'You seem to understand what lies behind the words.' Her voice was quiet and she smiled wryly.

'Ok,' I said and waited for Wade to begin.

It was a great part and I loved it.

 

Tom: I don't think you understand my difficulties, Simone.

Simone (sharply): Don't you Tom? I think I've had enough difficulties of my own, I think I've had experience! Don't you? Don't you Tom?

Tom: Simone, don't…

Simone (anguished): Don't what Tom? Don't embarrass you, or is it you don't want to remind you? Remind you of what you've done, done to me?

'Thank you,' Richard called. 'That was excellent, Wade. Are you still represented by the formidable Lucy Richards?'

Wade nodded with a big grin and I walked slowly off the stage, feeling sick.

'Mr Redden, wait.' I turned around hopefully but saw it was Sarah Wright walking quickly across the stage. Richard was deep in conversation with Henri and Wade was talking to Lucy.

'Yes?' I waited politely.

'I just wanted to tell you that you conveyed so much in those lines, you seem to know the play?' She cocked her head and looked me up and down.

'It's brilliant,' I said simply. 'I think the play is your best and the part of Simone is superb. A real challenge to any actor.'

'Thank you but that is also the problem for us. I'm afraid I'm insisting on an unknown, I want Simone to really speak and not be subdued because of the fame of the performer.'

'I understand completely. Good luck.' I began to turn away but her next words held me.

'This play is important to me,' Sarah said. 'Really important and luck is what we need, I think.' She laughed a little harshly. 'I think we have just five weeks to find Simone. Otherwise they,' she said with a jerk of her head back at Richard and Henri, 'will insist on Emma Thompson or someone. I've nothing against Emma but she's not Simone.'

'No,' I agreed

'But you were in just those few lines. Thank you, Mr Redden, you've given me hope that Simone is out there somewhere, we just have to find her.'

I walked out and bumped into Wade and Lucy in the lane where they were waiting for their taxi. 'Chris,' Lucy said with a smile. 'Thanks for helping out in there, Wade got the part.'

He got the role on ten words? With a sick feeling in my stomach, I realised he got it solely on the way he looked. Granted, he was tall and handsome but I didn't think he could act that well. To be fair, I hadn't seen much but it had been enough for Hawkins to pick him.

'Congratulations, Wade,' I said woodenly, trying to push past.

'Thanks, old man,' he said, slapping me on the back and I half fell to the ground.

Lucy helped me to my feet as Wade walked to the end of the lane to search for the taxi. 'You were great,' Lucy said as she helped me up. 'How do you get so much feeling, so much emotion in those few words?'

'I'm an actor,' I said stiffly.

She adjusted my coat. 'Have you thought about sprucing yourself up a bit, getting a haircut or something?'

'I'm trying to get rid of my prettiness!'

'You still mad at that? I'm sorry but it's the truth. Sometimes I think you'd make a better girl then half the female actors around.'

'Thanks a lot,' I said grumpily, walking off.

'You just look scruffy, Chris,' she called after me. 'Get a haircut and stop with the beard thing! Three wispy hairs on your chin don't make a beard!'

'Get stuffed!' I muttered walking towards the tube station.

 

I wandered the streets, my head reeling with the injustice of it all. It was so unfair, so fucking unfair!

That's what I told Mark after another wine. We were in his flat and he had listened patiently to me for over an hour. Mark was, I guess my best friend, if not my only friend which is telling as we weren't that close. We attended a method acting class together for a while until he proclaimed it was boring crap, darling, and left.

I bumped into him one afternoon and we had a coffee. I found out that Mark was a female impersonator in one of those posh shows that toured the West End and other places. He had even been to Las Vegas and New York and was represented by Lucy Richards so he must be making squillions!

'What about real acting?' I asked self-righteously and his eyes narrowed.

'Who said this isn't real? Let me tell you, my dear,' he said with a smile, 'the pay check is very real, very real indeed.' I could see that was the truth by the opulence of his his flat.

'It's fucking unfair,' I moaned again.

'For God's sake, dear,' Mark said with rolling eyes, 'will you leave it alone?' He poured himself another glass of champagne. 'It's not meant to be.'

'Mark,' I said miserably, tipping the empty bottle into my glass for the last remaining drops of wine. 'What am I going to do?'

'Give up the acting rubbish, dear, and join me,' he said sipping his champagne again.

'You?' I was flustered. 'As a female imp…'

'Exactly.' He winked dramatically. 'You'd be positively gorgeous with those eyes and cheekbones. You'd knock them dead.'

'Lucy told me to work with you but…'

'But nothing my boy.' He pulled me to my feet and to the mirror. 'Look at your eyes, I'm so jealous.' He pulled my hair away from my face. 'You'd be beautiful.'

Irritably, I pulled away. 'I'm tired of people saying I'm pretty.'

'You'd be a beautiful woman, Chrissie,' he said with a smile, calmly sipping his champagne.

'Stop calling me Chrissie. Pity I'm not a woman,' I said as I sunk into the sofa. 'I'd get the part of Simone if I was, I just know it.'

'So be a woman,' Mark said with an airy wave.

'What?' I looked up and I think we both thought the same thing at the exact same time. 'You mean go to the audition as a woman? Do the Tootsie thing?'

'I think you'd look a little better than Dustin Hoffman, Chrissie,' Mark said with a wink. 'I don't think he's got your legs.'

'Be a woman?'

'Why not? I do it two shows a night, five nights a week.'

'But…'

'But what? I could teach you a few things, help you. Anything,' he said with a roll of his eyes, 'to stop you constantly whining about how unfair everything is. God, I thought I was the drama queen!'

I thought about it, really thought about it and then dismissed it. 'I'd look ridiculous.'

'I don't think so.'

'It'd be obvious that I was a man.'

'Oh for heavens sake! Why don't we see?' His eyes were twinkling and he poured more champagne.

'You mean?'

'Why not, I have all the gear. It'll be fun. And it'll stop you wallowing. Are you game?'

I thought for a moment and then shrugged. 'Ok, let's try it.'

Looking back, I could see we didn't put much effort into it or so I thought. Mark made me up, crammed a wig on my head and I stared miserably at the mirror.

'No,' Mark said slowly, lips pursed for a moment as he thought. 'It's not there. I'm afraid I'm useless at doing some one else's face and I only do make up for the stage. I know,' he said pointing at me, 'we need a stylist!'

'Mark,' I said weakly, taking the blonde Marylyn Monroe wig off and throwing it onto the dressing table, 'this is not going to work.'

'Hush! We're not giving up after one setback!'

"We?' When did it become we, I thought, when did I lose control?

'You know Belinda Morrison, don't you?'

'Belinda? Yes, of course I know of her, I met her once.' She'd been the stylist to several big names and then she wanted to begin her own business. They actors she had worked with for so long had promised to follow her but, of course they didn't. Last I heard, she had a beauty school at Notting Hill and was a little bitter about actors.

'She's a good friend of mine.' Mark picked the phone up, thumbed through his big address book and punched in a number. Mark was a big man, over six foot which gave his act an extra element of comedy as he was obviously a man but performing so well as a woman. The exaggerated winks, pouts and wriggles always brought peals of laughter from the audience.

'Belinda? How are you darling, it's Mark?' He listened for a moment and then turned to me. 'Go into the bathroom and get rid of that face,' he said with a smile and I took the hint.

When I came back, he was waiting with his coat on, a bag over his shoulder and a grin over his face. 'It's off to Notting Hill. A horse, a horse a dildo for a horse,' he chanted, bustling out the door. He paused at the doorway. 'Well, are you coming?'

'But Mark…'

'For goodness sake, have a big of dare in you, please! It's a bit of fun, that's all.'

 

We bundled out of the taxi at Notting Hill and Mark led the way into the building where Belinda's school was. It occurred to me he seemed to have this arranged this all so quickly but that was typical of Mark. He had spontaneously decided to get a tattoo after seeing a lead singer of a boy band with one. Nothing wrong with that except he flew to New York to get it from the same tattooist that the singer had used.

Mark and Belinda kissed and then Belinda stepped back, staring at me, eyes running over me. 'It's Christopher, isn't it? I think we've met before?' She was really examining me and I felt as if I was under some sort of professional scrutiny.

Most women never remembered me but I remembered her. Belinda was tall and thin, hair dark and cut short with at least three hoop ear rings in each ear lobe.

'Yes, that's right.'

'So, you want to fool Richard Hawkins? And that little prick Henri Profert?'

I looked at Mark who winked. 'I guess so,' I said weakly.

'You guess?' Belinda asked sharply.

'I'm sure, I want to win the audition.'

She nodded, all business like. 'Ok, this will take a while,' she said, looking at us both. 'We have to be serious here to see if it'll work.'

'We have all night, o dark one,' Mark said with an exaggerated bow and a smile.

Belinda rolled her eyes, muttered something about queens and focussed back on me. 'Last chance Chris, are you committed to this or has our camp friend persuaded you against your better nature?'

I thought back at all the rejections I had endured, the times I had been dismissed without even a word, just a wave and those dreaded words, Thank you. Next!

I wanted to do something different, my life was grey and horrible. The only friend I had was Mark, I had no girlfriends, my parents were dead and I had no other living relatives. With a blinding stab of reality, I knew I was lonely and miserable, a failure.

'He hasn't persuaded me,' I said softly and Mark looked at me quietly with a small smile and a nod. 'I want to do this.'

'Really? It won't be easy, you know,' she added warningly.

'Let's do it,' I said, more bravely than I felt.

 

Belinda led us in and I had a shower and then under her and Mark's instructions I removed all my body hair. I was initially embarrassed by Belinda's presence but she brusquely dismissed it. 'Forget it, Chris,' she said, 'try to think like a girl,' Belinda said with a wink and Mark giggled.

'God knows I do,' Mark said with an exaggerated pout.

Belinda disappeared to make some coffee so she said while Mark introduced me to the gaff. "This keeps Mr Happy well and truly hidden,' he explained as I blushingly put it on. I couldn't live without it,' he said dramatically and I suppressed a giggle.

Then came the corset. It was excruciating but Belinda and Mark showed no mercy. I could hardly breathe as I sat in the chair so Belinda could shampoo, cut and style my hair. 'I'm using hair extensions so we can get them out later if this doesn't work,' she muttered, working away.

Time merged into an endless void, I just flowed along, getting up when she said, moving to a new position and just being a piece of plasticine for her to mould. I was so numb I didn't blink an eye at the two large blobs of skin coloured plastic she thrust into the bra cups of the corset. Blankly I stared down as she arranged the breasts, my breasts! 'If this works, we'll get the ones that glue.' She glanced at Mark. 'Didn't you have any smaller?'

He shrugged. 'I'm a big boy, dear and now she's a big girl.' He winked at but I continued to sit in a daze, waiting for what she was going to do next.

Mark drank champagne, he forced a glass on both Belinda and I and he twirled around and around to music while Belinda patiently worked.

She worked on my hair, my eyebrows and my make up including eyelashes. Finally, I slipped into the black dress Mark had magically produced from his bag along with the pair of shoes that, also magically, fit me. I had struggled to put pantyhose on but had avoided ladders and I stood in the centre of the room as Belinda teased my hair out of the rollers and fixed it. Clip on earrings, a necklace and perfume.

Mark stopped dancing around and stood stock still, staring as Belinda stepped back.

I stood there nervously, tasting the lipstick on my lips, breathing in shallow breaths because of the stupid corset and waited. They were both open mouthed and staring and glumly, I knew I must look stupid.

'At least,' I said, blinking, 'I tried.' What now, I wondered, what do I do now that this was a failure? I then realised just how much I had hoped this would work.

'Did you see that?' Belinda asked Mark softly and he just nodded.

Belinda walked slowly around me, hand to her chin as she studied me. 'It was a rush job, there's so much more to do but…shit!' It was said softly and I turned to her, puzzled.

'I know,' Mark breathed. 'It's amazing. I mean, I always suspected but to see it. That's why I planned this, got the shoes…' He suddenly looked at me.

'What are you two going on about?'

'Can you try a girls voice?' Belinda asked.

I did have a good ear for accents and I closed my eyes as I remembered. After clearing my throat, eyes still closed, I softened my voice and made it higher, speaking from the throat and not the chest. 'How does this sound?' I asked and then opened my eyes. They were staring again. 'Do I sound acceptable?' I asked shyly.

Belinda cleared her throat. 'Yes,' she said strangely, glancing at Mark, 'perfectly acceptable.'

I saw the looks and stood with my hands on my hips. 'Will you two tell me what is going on, please?' Their eyes bulged and then Mark smirked while Belinda stifled a giggle.

'Oh,' Mark screamed, 'she's a natural.'

Belinda and Mark each took one of my arms and steered me to the mirror where I could see. 'Oh my god!' I exclaimed and the gorgeous woman in the mirror look shocked as well. She was beautiful. Dark hair to the shoulders, big wide violet eyes that beguiled, high elegant cheekbones and full red lips. I couldn't help myself, I smiled and the woman in the mirror smiled back, eyes twinkling.

I stepped back and inspected myself, the figure was curvy, compliments of the padding, the largish fake breasts and the corset.

'That's me,' I said in wonder, turning and inspecting myself. 'Is it really me?' I kept the female voice as it seemed appropriate somehow.

'Yes,' Belinda said gruffly. 'It's you.' She shook her head. 'I don't believe it, but it's you.'

'Could I get away with it?' We all knew what I meant. Could I get away with appearing at the audition, could I persuade them I was a woman? Suddenly, it all seemed possible to me.

Mark shook his head. 'No,' he said quietly.

'What?"

'No, dear,' he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. 'It takes more than dress ups.'

'Oh,' I said, head bowed, blinking.

'Stop that,' Belinda said grumpily.

'What?'

'You know dam well. The pouting, sad face thing.'

'Now, Belinda,' Mark said gently. 'She's a natural, that's all. She doesn't know.'

'You've never done this before?' Belinda asked me suspiciously and I shook my head.

'No, never.'

'Never?' She looked at Mark.

'Never, dear, I've tried to talk her into it many times but she wouldn't listen. You can see she's a natural.'

Belinda studied me. 'She could pass, it would take a little work but she could. How long do we have?'

'I think Chris said Sarah believed she had five weeks to find some one?' Mark looked at me and I nodded, still staring at myself in the mirror.

'Five weeks, that will have to do then.'

'If that,' Mark said, 'time is getting away'.

'They'll find someone by then,' I said miserably.

'Not if Lucy Richards calls them and tells them she has an outstanding person who is out of the country and will be back in four weeks.' Mark said it with glee and I looked at him, shocked.

'Would Lucy do that?'

Mark winked. 'Leave it to me.'

'Do you want to do it, Chris?' Belinda asked quietly. 'Give everything up for four weeks?'

'Give what up?' Mark said cattily as he sipped champagne. 'Eating junk food, reading scripts and getting rejected at auditions?'

'I don't know,' I said quietly.

Mark suddenly became serious and squatted down so he could look me directly in the eyes. 'Look, Chris,' he said with real affection, 'look in the mirror, that's you. You have a chance here to do everything you've ever wanted, to walk a West End stage, to read the reviews to experience it all. It's what you wanted, isn't it?'

"Yes,' I whispered and the woman in the mirror also whispered yes.

'You only have to do it once, just once and then you can let the world, all those arseholes know that you not only acted brilliantly as Simone you acted as a woman acting Simone.'

My eyes bulged at that and the woman in the mirror looked pretty excited. 'You think?'

'Chris,' Mark said softly, turning my face away from the mirror. 'I know what I am. I dress up in frocks and mime Dancing Queen and I love it. But it's obvious I'm not a woman, that's my whole act but you, can't you see how stunning you are? I mean, dear Kylie Minogue would be jealous! Seriously, you have a god given talent to act and now,' he said turning my face to the mirror, 'you also have it!'

'What do you think, Belinda?' I asked slowly. 'Tell me the truth.'

She ran her fingers through her hair. 'The scary thing, Chris, is that with a little bit of work and practise, you'd be much better. I know you find that hard to believe but fingernails, piercing, plucked eyebrows, waxing and electrolysis, you'd be bloody gorgeous.'

'But,' I said shakily, 'would I be real?'

'You wouldn't be a drag queen, Chrissie,' Mark said quietly, 'you'd be a woman. It could be your greatest performance.'

'Ok,' I said softly.

'What?' Belinda and Mark asked in unison.

'I'll do it. It could be fun,' I said with a weak smile as Belinda kissed my cheek.

'Now,' Belinda said, all business. 'You have to stay here, we will work every day.'

'Stay here?'

'I live upstairs and there's a spare bedroom. You'll live as a woman for the entire time so you're used to it. We'll need money for clothes and things.'

I hung my head. 'I'm broke.'

'I'll cover you,' Mark said. 'It's just a loan, my dear.'

'You'd do that?'

'We're friends aren't we? Of course I'll do it, Chrissie dear. I can say I'm a friend of,' he paused. 'What name are you going to use, I'll have to tell Lucy a name?'

'I don't know.'

'I could come up with one.'

'I don't think Marylyn Mansfield is quite what we're looking for,' Belinda said dryly.

'Let me think about it,' I said quietly staring at my reflection. I had quite a lot to think about.

 

End of Catherine Lawrence Part 1 by Carmenica Diaz

  

  

  

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