‘Cut the laugh, Bruce,’ said Peregrine. ‘It distracts. Pipe down. On.’

The scene ended as written by the author and with the barely concealed merriment of Ross and Angus.

Dougal went into the auditorium to apologize to Peregrine. Banquo affected innocence. ‘Cauldron Scene,’ Peregrine called.

Afterwards he wondered how he got through the rest of the rehearsal. Luckily the actors and apparitions were pretty solid and it was a matter of making the electrician and effects man acquainted with what would be expected of them.

The cauldron would be in the passage under the steps up to what had been Duncan’s room. A door, indistinguishable when shut, would shut at the disappearance of the cauldron and witches amidst noise, blackout and a great display of dry-ice-fog and galloping hooves. Full lighting and Lennox tapping with his sword hilt at the door.

‘You’ve seen our side of it,’ Peregrine said to the effects man. ‘It’s up to you to interpret. Go home, have a think. Come and tell me. Right?’

‘Right. I say,’ said the electrician, ‘that kid’s good, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, isn’t he?’ said Peregrine. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I want a word with Charlie. Thank you so much. Goodbye till we three meet again. Sooner the better.’

‘Yes indeed.’ A chorus of goodbyes.

The men left. Peregrine mopped his face. I’d better get out of this, he thought, and wondered if he could drive.

It was not yet four-thirty. Banquo was not in sight and the traffic had not thickened. His car was in the yard. To hell with everything, thought Peregrine. He said to the ASM: ‘I want to get off, Charlie. Have you fixed it up? The sword?’

‘It’s OK. Are you all right?’

‘It’s just a bruise. No breakages. You’ll lock up?’

‘Sure!’

He went out with Peregrine, opened the car door and watched him in.

‘Are you all right? Can you drive?’

‘Yes.’

‘Saturday tomorrow.’

‘That’s the story, Charlie. Thank you. Don’t talk about this, will you? It’s their silly superstition.’

‘I don’t talk,’ said Charlie. ‘Are you all right?’

He was, or nearly so, when he settled. Charlie watched him out of the yard. Along the Embankment, over the bridge and then turn right and right again. When he got there he was going to sound his horn.

To his surprise, Emily came out of their house and ran down the steps to the car. ‘I thought you’d never get here,’ she cried. And then: ‘Darling, what’s wrong?’

‘Give me a bit of a prop. I’ve bruised myself. Nothing serious.’

‘Right you are. Here we go, then. Which is the side?’

‘The other. Here we go.’

He clung to her, slid out and stood holding on to the car. She shut and locked the door.

‘Shall I get a stick or will you use me?’

‘I’ll use you, love, if you don’t mind.’