‘Well,’ said Peregrine, ‘the actions are spot-on. Thank you. It’s now up to the lights: an absolute cue. Catch them in a flash before they fall. You witches must remember to keep flat and then scurry off in the blackout. OK?’

‘Can we keep well apart?’ asked Rangi. ‘Before we take off. Otherwise we may fall on each other.’

‘Yes. Get in position when you answer the caterwauls. Blondie, you take the point furthest away when you hear them. Wendy, you stay where you are, and Rangi, you answer from under the gallows. Think of birds…ravens…That’s it. Splendid. Next scene.’

It was their first rehearsal in semi-continuity. It would be terribly rough but Peregrine liked his cast to get the feeling of the whole as early as possible. Here came the King. Superb bearing. Lovely entrance. Pause on steps. Thanes moved on below him. Bloody Sergeant on ground level, back to audience. The King – magnificent.

Up to his tricks again, thought Peregrine, and stopped them.

‘Sorry, old boy,’ he said. ‘There’s an extra move from you here. Remember? Come down. The thanes wheel round behind you. Bloody Sergeant moves up and we’ll all focus on him for the speech. OK?’

The King raised a hand and slightly shook his head. ‘So sorry. Of course.’ He graciously complied. The Bloody Sergeant, facing front and determined to wring the last syllable from his one-speech part, embarked upon it with many pauses and gasps.

When it was over Peregrine said: ‘Dear boy, you are determined not to faint or not to gasp. You can’t quite manage it but you do your best. You keep going. Your voice fades out but you master it. You even manage your little joke, “As sparrows eagles or the hare the lion,” and we cut to: “But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.”’ You make a final effort. You salute. Your hand falls to your side and we see the blood on it. You are helped off. Don’t do so much, dear boy. Be! I’ll take you through it afterwards. On.’

The King returned magnificently to his place of vantage. Ross made an excitable entrance with news of the defeat of the faithless Cawdor. The King established his execution and the bestowal of his title upon Macbeth. Peregrine had cut the scene down to its bones. He made a few notes and went straight on to the witches again.

Now came the moment for the first witch and the long speech about the sailor to Aleppo gone. Then the dance. Legs bent. Faces distorted. Eyes. Tongues. It works, thought Peregrine. The drums and pipes. Offstage with retreating soldiers. Very ominous. Enter Macbeth and Banquo. Witches in a cluster, floor level. Motionless.