‘I don’t know what you’ll think of Gaston. I mean, of what I’m doing with him. He’s the bearer of the great ceremonial sword – the claidheamh-mor – we’re making a harness for him to take the haft. It’s the real weapon and weighs a ton. He’s as strong as a bull. He follows Macbeth everywhere like a sort of judgement. And at the end he’ll carry the head on it. He is watching Jeremy’s drawings for his costume with the eye of a hawk.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘Like all the other Macbeth ménage. Embryo tartan, black woollen tights, thonged sheepskin leggings. A heavy belt to take the sword-hilts. A mask for the fights. In his final appearance with the head on the sword – er – he suggested a scarlet tabard.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Perry!’

‘I know. Where would he change, and why? With fighting thanes milling all round. I pointed this out and for once he hadn’t an answer. He took refuge in huffy grandeur, said it was merely an idea and went into a long thing about colour and symbolism.’

‘I feel I must meet him.’

‘Shall I invite him for tea?’

‘Do you like him?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Oh, one couldn’t exactly do that. Or I don’t think one could. Collect him, perhaps. No, he might just turn into a bore and not go home.’

‘In that case we won’t ask him here.’

‘Or bring the Macbeth’s head with him to show you. He did that to me. When we’d finished afternoon rehearsal. It was in the shadows of the wardrobe room. I nearly fainted.’

‘Frightful?’

‘Terrifying. It’s sheet white and so like Dougal. With a bloody gash, you know. He wondered if I had any suggestions to make.’

‘Had you?’

‘Just to cover it up quick. Fortunately the audience only sees it momentarily. He turns it to face Malcolm who is up on the steps at the back. It’ll be back to audience.’

‘They’ll laugh,’ said Emily.

‘If they laugh at that they’ll laugh at anything.’

‘What do you bet?’

‘Well, of course they have in the past always laughed at a head and the management always says it’s a nervous reaction. So it may be but I don’t think so. I think they know it isn’t, and can’t be, Macbeth’s or anybody else’s head and they laugh. It’s as if they said: “This is a bit too thick. Come off it.” All the same I’m going to risk it.’

‘You jolly well do and more power to your elbow.’

‘The final words are cut. The play ends with the thanes all shouting: “Hail, King of Scotland,” and pointing their swords at Malcolm. He’s in a strong light. I hope the audience will go away feeling, well – relieved, uplifted, as if Scotland stands free of a nightmare.’